Hermione Granger: The Divination Professor
by CloeyMarie
Summary: When Minerva contacted Hermione the last thing she had expected was to be asked to go back to 1980 to steal the job out from underneath Sybill Trelawney's nose. Now, it's up to Hermione to get the Order on track without letting it slip that her 'predictions' are a little too well informed!
1. Chapter 1

To say that Hermione was surprised by the owl bearing a Hogwarts crest that came crashing into her work station would make light of her near impenetrable lab in the bowels of the ministry, hunkered down in the Time Room. Taking a moment to blink owlishly at the animal that had skidded to a halt directly in front of her, gazing reproachfully at the many papers coating her desk making a smooth landing impossible, she reluctantly took the letter from the bird. Grateful that the owl didn't seem to expect anything in the way of treats, of which she had none on hand, Hermione took a moment to assess her work environment. Fred Phillups had left since she last surfaced from her research on the impermanence of time she felt comfortable enough opening the letter at her desk as she was the only one left there for the night. While she had fallen out of her war time habit of practicing the utmost secrecy of anything remotely personal, a bit of secrecy seemed to be warranted for Hogwarts to break ministry wards. Dragging her finger along the seal of the envelope she plucked the letter out.

_Hermione,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Dumbledore's portrait has been most insistent on having a visit with you to catch up with your illustrious career (I suspect he wants to study up on time to impress a portrait he has recently taken up with who is well versed on the subject). Regardless, it is high time we had tea together. Is tonight at 7:00pm acceptable? If so, no need to reply. _

_Sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"They've gone round the bend!" Hermione could not think of another single explanation that would cause her esteemed mentor to send an owl past ministry wards, let alone over the matter of Dumbledore taking a beau and wanted to brush up his theoretical knowledge to impress said beau. Shaking her head as she cast a quick _tempus_ to check the time left Hermione sputtering. She had all of fifteen minutes to pack up and get to Hogwarts. A seed of panic began to grow as she hurriedly packed away her papers into her satchel that had been magically enhanced to the point she was vaguely surprised it didn't glow with magical energy. Surely McGonagall wouldn't contact her in such a way for something so mundane. No, this had to be something important. Perhaps, pertaining to her work?

Bustling out of her lab and making her way to the lifts left Hermione turning over what could possibly be the true reason behind the letter. After the fall of Voldemort there had been massive efforts to round up the remaining Death Eaters that hadn't fallen in the final battle. It had resulted in something of a witch hunt, rankling Hermione the way reasoned investigation had swiftly turned into a massive deluge of accusations against neighbors and anyone not in political favor. Harry and Ron had just started their Auror training at the time and had been called in for things far beyond their depth. Harry had confirmed that they were being used as poster boys for the stability of the new ministry as well as showing how committed they were to cleaning up the mess. However, it had been years since the final battle and the Death eater round-ups. Perhaps they needed her help in some capacity to catch some remaining Death Eater?

Shaking her head to clear it of her thoughts, she exited the lift making a beeline towards the Apparition room. Her heels clicked and echoed in the vast room, the sound precise and sudden. Without turning to make it obvious she was looking she noticed an unusually small amount of people making their way through the room. Pulling her cloak a little tighter she hurried on, aware that time was not on her side to make the meeting.

Apparating outside of the Hogwarts gates in the dead of winter was not her idea of fun. Cursing bitterly as her heels sunk into the snow that had not been swept away as there were precious few students remaining in Hogwarts over the winter holidays Hermione decided against transfiguring her shoes to something more suitable, instead casting a warming charm as she slogged on.

"Ah, Hermione. I'm very glad you could make it on such short notice." McGonagall called out, standing primly on the steps, shrouded in long chocolate brown robes with a cloak settled over top.

"Of course, Minerva. I wouldn't miss your tea for the world." Smiling warmly at the older woman Hermione shook her feet to dislodge the snow that had collected and hurried in the door that McGonagall had opened for her.

"It has been some time since we have been able to have a cup together. I hope work has not been keeping you too busy." The two witches walked together, robes sweeping along the floor as they went, warding off the winter chill that permeated the building.

Chuckling at her mentor's obvious care Hermione couldn't help giving her an amused look, "No more than schoolwork kept me busy while here. I'm afraid I'm a work-a-holic!" Privately, Hermione suspected the day she didn't go beyond what most thought was sufficient would be the day she died. While she enjoyed this trait about herself it had led to rather disastrous results with Ron and their relationship. It had been after several blazing rows that they had concluded that a romantic entanglement between the two of them was about as sustainable as a forest fire. They had settled back into their friendship rather nicely, she thought, once they had agreed to being purely platonic.

The rest of the journey to the Headmistress' office was filled with social niceties. Inquiring about the students Hermione was pleased to learn Hogwarts had ascended to its former glory with the numbers back up after the five year slump of parents not feeling safe sending their children there as well as the loss of life simply resulting in a smaller pool of students to send the letter to.

"Tabby cat." Minerva intoned, watching as the staircase appeared and ascended gracefully. Readjusting her satchel, Hermione followed the older women up and into the spender of the Headmistress' study. Portraits lined the walls, each moving and speaking but one drew her eye immediately with his jovial greeting.

"Hermione! How good it is to see you again!" Regarding the women, Albus wasted no time in settling himself more comfortably in his painted chair.

"Hello Professor, it's good to see you again." Seeing that Minerva had left the room, presumably to retrieve tea, Hermione set about shrugging off her heavy cloak and seating herself.

"I understand you are working for the Department of Mysteries now. That is quite the accomplishment." Dipping her head to acknowledge the compliment, Hermione waited patiently for him to continue. "I understand you are bound to certain restrictions with regard to what you can and can't say but it would be most beneficial if I could ask a few questions regarding time." Leaning forward in his chair Hermione got the distinct impression that he was fishing for something. Like a cat carefully batting a paw in water not to catch the fish just then but to maneuver it to where it wanted its dinner.

"Well, of course… I will answer what I can." Hermione had never had the innate trust in Dumbledore like Harry, however trust had developed by respect and admiration, carefully weighed against errors but always coming out in the old man's favor. While Hermione suspected he had more reason to want to talk about time than impressing some man she was willing to wait it out until he felt the need to tip his hand.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now, I understand there are some theories being bandied about regarding time. Could you shed some light on them for an old man?" The painting tilted his head slightly, as if a quizzical child.

"Well, there are multiple theories. Some surmise that time is a constant, unchangeable and immovable. They point to the use of time-turners and how every action taken while using one perfectly fits together. An example to support that would be Buckbeak and Harry thinking he saw his father casting the _patronous_ when in fact he saw the future version of himself. While this theory of time can explain short term time travel it is theorized that time is more of a flow. A river, so to say. It naturally wants to follow a certain path that everything that has happened before leads it to. However, it is theorized that if one could go back far enough, you could disrupt the flow in a major way. Hence, creating change that the timeline couldn't integrate into itself, like with time turners. Given this, the timeline would be very resistant to the agent of this change, much like a river wearing down a bolder that got in its way. The change would not only have to have a catalyst, it would have to stabilize in a way that catches the momentum of history in the same way. You couldn't change the river of time and expect it not to flow downhill." Recounting theories in time to the tapping of one long finger to the edge of her jaw she watched the painting's reaction. Noting that even the distinctive sparkle had been caught in the magical process of becoming a painted version of the deceased.

She was about to fire off another theory involving multiple strings of reality when the former Headmaster held up a hand to silence her, "Very good, Miss Granger. You are truly a student of time. Given this, do you think the timeline could be changed?"

Narrowing her eyes she pondered the question aloud, "Well, given everything we know about time it seems most likely. Both the Catalyst and String theories believe it to be possible. However, if one were trying to change what one currently has in the nature of reality it would amount to little difference. If someone was able to go back in time far enough to create a large enough variance in the timeline and could keep the stream steady it is feasible history could be changed."

Clapping his hands together Dumbledore seemed the very picture of joy, "That's wonderful, what a boon you are to your department, Miss Granger! I think it is high time Minerva joined us again." Nodding towards the doors that led to the Headmistress' chambers, a scowling McGonagall emerged, carrying a tea tray carefully arranged.

"Really Albus, I knew you wanted to talk to her alone. There was no need to lock me out of my own office." McGonagall was careful to give him a very unhappy look before setting the tray down and serving Hermione a cup of jasmine tea.

"One can never be too careful, my dear. Not to mention it's wonderful to be able to chat with such a brilliant mind one on one." Winking at said "brilliant mind" Hermione was careful to conceal the quirk of her lips behind her cup as Minerva continued to show her anger by pinching her lips together in a look that would have sent most students scuttling for cover.

"The tea is wonderful, Minerva." Hermione demurred, trying to defuse the situation, ever eager to get to the bottom of a mystery and this was turning out to be just that.

"Thank you, help yourself to some biscuits as well." The Headmistress looked over Hermione fondly as the girl did so. "Now, on to business. You have been keeping up with the papers, have you not?"

Swallowing the baked good down Hermione thought over the question, "Yes, between the Prophet and the Quibbler I try to stay up to date with what's going on in the world." Aside from the papers and her handful of friends Hermione's news was limited to what academic work had come out that pertained to her research or the occasional office gossip that she caught on the way to and from her desk. As she had sunk deeper and deeper into the world of academics, Hermione had instilled a half hour every day to catch up on news. It helped keep her abreast of social maneuverings as well as political undercurrents.

"Good, then you have seen the disappearances." Hermione had noticed small articles, sprinkled throughout that hinted that people were being taken though it was often under the guise of the individual suddenly up and leaving. While she had dismissed the first few cases as pure coincidence, by the fourth or fifth Hermione had been on pins and needles. Owling Harry the very next day to see if he could shed any light on the matter. "We have reason to believe it's happening again, Hermione."

Swallowing thickly Hermione had a terrible sinking feeling. As if someone had attached lead weights, picked her up, and tossed her in the lake with the giant squid. There was no need to say what "it" was. It was war. It was people being taken from their homes. It was back.

"When? How?" The rational part of her was mentally listing all the protective charms she would need to place on her home, who to inform, what to get, with everything becoming a list to be completed. The less rational part of her was wailing. Positively railing against the injustice of being in one war and then so soon being plunged back in to the fray. Realizing her fingers had begun to dig into her knees and her breathing had picked up speed, Hermione mentally counted down as she waiting for answers she desperately needed.

"It started about a year ago. We began to hear things. It originated on the outskirts. People going missing that no one would really miss. Those down and out, orphans, drug dealers, and that sort. Then, when we sent out some of our contacts from the Order, they vanished. We were more careful, making less overt inquiries. Keeping count and the location of where people were taken, where they were from. It started to add up. Then, they got bolder in the past few months. Taking people that would be missed. But, there's nothing solid linking any of the crimes. Nothing but a web that is constantly expanding. And then, a sighting. A child from Hogwarts was home for the holidays, there was a "disappearance." Everyone but the child who had been coming home was taken. He caught sight of him." McGonagall explained, sitting straight in her seat but her eyes were liquid with age and sadness.

Hermione was by nature a thinker, not one prone to action until the facts had been gathered and plans evaluated and rethought until they were perfect. As with the war, she could feel that part of herself being pushed out, wanting desperately to have the time to plan. Despite this, she could feel the old patterns of behavior coming back. This was a problem that wouldn't wait to be examined in painstaking detail. It would require decisiveness and while she was no Auror she could fight and that she would.

"Miss Granger, Voldemort is back." Dumbledore explained, taking her silence as a lack of understanding.

Raising her eyes from Minerva to stare at Albus she couldn't help but let some bitterness creep into her voice, "Of course, Voldemort was never that easy to kill. With everything he did to himself to stay alive we should have known he would have another trick up his sleeve." Thinking back to his consumption of unicorn blood and the ritual that had nearly cost Harry his life and had given Riddle a new body Hermione was loathe to think what it would take to finally kill the man.

"Yes, he is rather good at surviving against all odds and despite every hope to the contrary." Dumbledore whispered. "He has bided his time to come back. I am dead and so are much of the Order's prime researchers. He has waited until we once again became complacent to strike."

"But sir, Harry defeated him once, surely…" Twisting her fingers together Hermione did not miss the sad shake of Dumbledore's head at her feeble hope.

"Harry Potter is an amazing man but he is no theoretical Wizard. And, I fear we are running out of time. It would take months to get the Order back to fully functioning let alone devoting so many resources to understanding what it is Tom has done to himself this time. No, I'm afraid we need another course of action."

Hermione's mind was racing. Plans and contingencies formed themselves and were swept away as each was examined and found lacking. Surely, if anyone could figure it out it would be Dumbledore, which she said as much.

"Alas, I am a painting now. And while this shade of myself has everything I learned in life, I do not have original thought. I am very much the old dog that can not learn new tricks. No, as I am now I can't stop Tom though I wish more than anything else I could. However, are you familiar with the charming word mulligan?"

Nodding slightly Hermione only had to think back on the many card games she and the boys had played to recall the many times a player had been given a bad shake and been able to re-draw.

"We're simply going to have to do it again." Dumbledore stated it so plainly that Hermione was left to stare at him agape.

"Oh, that's all. We'll just ring Voldemort and let him know we got a bad hand so wouldn't he please let us have a do over?" She demanded, feeling a vein on her forehead pulse as she raged growing more annoyed by the nonplussed look the portrait was exuding. Even Minerva who had been quietly sipping her tea was giving Dumbledore a disapproving look.

"Well, if you think it will work…" Dumbledore shrugged as if considering the proposal. "However, I had something a bit more permanent in mind. Minerva, if you would."

Looking rather put upon, the Headmistress set down her tea in favor of rummaging around her drawer and withdrawing a large ornate hourglass. With care she placed it on the desk before Hermione, inclining her head slightly to show she could examine the item. Carefully grasping it, she ran her fingers over the engraved numbers on the four sliding bands circling the top. While Hermione had only worked in the Department of Mysteries for five years, she knew a time turner when she saw one and while it was far from standard the shifting sand and the very presence it exuded gave away the less than ordinary aspect to the hourglass.

"I've never seen one with this design before, and the bands, that's much more sophisticated than most time turners." Hermione didn't even bother to look up from the time turner for further explanation; instead she continued to trace the intricacies of the wood and metal.

"I would be rather put out if you had. My friend Nicolas Flamel and myself went to a great deal of trouble to create it. It can send one person back to a time of their choosing." Dumbledore chortled at seeing her face whip up to look at him, mouth parted slightly in shock.

"Oh, professor, this is an amazing breakthrough! This has been the subject of so much research and here it is, right in my palm. Ooh, Johnson would be green with envy." Examining the hourglass with renewed interest, Hermione couldn't help but think of her co-worker that was a right prat and had no problem using his many years of service to the ministry as a reason to bully the newer people into taking some of his workload. The idea of his long career being devoted to discovering what she had in her hands seemed to make up for all the hours she had slogged through his paperwork for him.

"Yes, he was rather proud of it. Wouldn't stop strutting around like a game-cock for days." Chuckling fondly at the memory the portrait seemed lost in time, reliving a moment of pure accomplishment and bliss. "However, as with many such things, there is a catch. It's only back and one shot at that. Should it be set to a time other than what is desired, there is no going further back. The hourglass will dissolve upon completing the journey." He advised.

"Who will be going back, sir?" Privately suspecting her brains would once more be put to the test on the theoretical aspects and the planning she was unprepared to hear McGonagall's throat being cleared while giving her a very pointed look.

"Hermione, Albus and I have been over all the Order members and there is no one we think more qualified for this than you." Holding up a hand to forestall her sputtering protests, she soldiered on, "You are uniquely positioned to be of use to both the theoretical and physical work that must be done. Your experience in time will aid in making sure the changes hold in the time stream, as well as having a host of other skills necessary to bind the Order together and get them going in the right direction."

Carefully placing the hourglass back on the desk, Hermione carefully turned the issue over in her head, "What exactly is expected? Am I to tell your previous versions I'm from the future? Would I be going on missions? Would I keep my identity?" Dozens more questions clamored to be asked, just there behind her teeth as she waited for her two mentors to explain the hefty task they were asking of her.

Shooting the portrait of Dumbledore a menacing look Minerva answered, "After much deliberation, we have concluded that it would be for the best if you assumed another identity and did not tell our past selves who you really are."

"Unfortunately, it would be far too tempting to know the future, no matter how fragmented. You know what has happened In its full scope so you will be in a better position to navigate between what is important to tell and what is better left unsaid." Dumbledore clarified, favoring Minerva an affronted look. Given her own personal knowledge Hermione suspected Dumbledore had originally advocated for her to spill the beans only to have Minerva shoot down the suggestion. Privately, she agreed with the sentiment of keeping the future to herself. Even her knowing what would happen would be hard to resist acting on while also being conscious of the changes to the time stream she would be doing.

"I agree. That leaves us with the problem of how I'm going to secure an identity in the past." Puzzling out the details was going to give her a headache, Hermione thought.

"Well, it is really a simple matter! 1980 is an ideal time, and there just happens to be an opening on staff. You would have lodging, an income, easy access to the Order, and have an entire summer to research!" Something seemed off, Dumbledore looked entirely too pleased and McGonagall was studiously ignoring her gaze. The solution sounded elegant enough, surely it would work.

"What's the catch?" She asked eyes narrowing as the portrait beamed.

"You'll be the new Divination professor!"

* * *

Here's the first chapter! I've been reading a lot of time travel fics recently and it occurred to me that there is a serious lack of fics that take place after the Mauraders have left Hogwarts and to my knowledge no one has ever stuffed Hermione in Trelawney's position. It should be an interesting ride, folks!


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione had a terrible moment of clarity, they had gone completely barking mad. It was the only explanation for something so foolish. To list the problems with her being the Divination professor would be like counting grains of sand. Blinking rapidly and cocking her head to the side, she contemplated which to bring up first.

"I'm not a seer." It seemed both the most idiotic and also the best thing to point out to her old professors who had gone round the bend. "Furthermore, not only am I not a qualified teacher for any subjects aside from charms or arithmancy I stopped taking that class in my third year. I can't tell one lump of tea leaves from another let alone tell someone's fortune from it!" Her voice went high as she grew more scandalized by the thought alone. Mad, they were both mad.

Smiling warmly at her, Dumbledore responded, "Why heavens, of course you aren't! If you were a seer I imagine third year would have turned out much differently." The twinkle was back as the portrait looked down on her with an expression of supreme humor and benevolence as she sputtered. "It would not be necessary. Indeed, you would simply have to enact a suitable voice and make it look as if you've had one. It rather neatly ties up the problem of you knowing things you shouldn't. A potential fly in the ointment, as it were, would be if you are not an Occlumens."

Nodding absent mindedly Hermione tried to think of any time she had actual bore witness to an instance of Seeing, let alone any idea of what type of voice one would have to invoke to look like one was delivery a prophecy. "Of course I am, Professor. It's standard training for anyone working in the Department of Mysteries. I wouldn't be up to going against someone on your skill but I can protect my mind from most." She ground out, aware that Dumbledore would know the answer to that question already. The Department of Mysteries was one of the most secretive and rigorous parts of the ministry and they protected their investments. They wouldn't let someone into the lab with dangerous and scandalous research if they couldn't make sure the individual conducting the research was of sufficient intelligence, moral quality, and ability to keep their lips sealed even in the event of an invader of the mind. While she thought their second quality was a little lacking in some of their employees they made up for it with intelligence and secrecy in spades.

"Very good, you'll of course have to brush up a bit once you are back but given you've already had training it's a splendid groundwork. Now, we'll have to come up with another identity as you were born in September of 1979, were you not?" He shifted in his seat, leaning closer as if trying to read the date of her birth from her forehead.

"Yes, I was, the nineteenth. When exactly would I be going back to?" Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a thick notepad and a pen. After Hogwarts, Hermione had refused to return to using a quill and had promptly invested in a wide collection of pens that made writing on the go infinitely easier. Deciding to ignore the issue of her employment being a spinner of fluff and stuff for such a woolly and abhorrent branch of study, she jotted down what they had discussed so far.

"I interviewed Sybill in early 1980, March the 2oth. She had contacted me a week before to inquire after the position. So, you'll just have to go back to March 6th to owl me and meet with me so that I can hire you before she contacts me. If I were to see you having a vision as well as accurately interpreting tea leaves, things like that I'm sure I would hire you on the spot. I never understood it but I always had the hardest time filling positions during my tenure." Dumbledore mused aloud.

Snorting at his bemusement, she could find many reasons why it would be hard to fill teaching positions in a school known for its curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, need to live on the premises, as well as being a known target for Voldemort. "You don't want her to speak the prophecy, or at least no one around to overhear it."

"Correct, Miss Granger. This is the catalyst. By saving the Potters, we would keep four of our fighters and have a known spy in our midst, Peter Pettigrew. Better to know where our leak is then to oust him prematurely and find ourselves with another that is unknown to us. You will give your own prophecy about four friends that will hint at some divide that will separate them with dire consequences. Should Severus overhear it and deliver it to Voldemort it will be considered proof Pettigrew is loyal to him and succeeding at his task. For Dumbledore, it will signal something is going wrong." Minerva interjected, refilling both their teacups as she did so.

"Thank you." Smiling as she retrieved her cup from the Headmistress, Hermione continued, "What about Snape then? He wouldn't have the incentive to change sides and we would certainly need his information with the timeline changing to keep us abreast of what's going on."

"A very valid concern. You, my dear, will have to convince him to change sides." Choking on her tea Hermione pounded her fist into her chest to try and clear her airway.

"Me? How in the ruddy hell am I supposed to do that? Sorry Minerva, but honestly how in the world am I supposed to convince Severus Snape that he needs to give up on his ideals and come spy for a man he hates? No offence Albus but I saw the memories he gave Harry and while I'm sure you two grew together a bit he can't have been your greatest fan fresh out of school. Not to mention, as I recall, he doesn't put stoke in divination and me foretelling gloom and doom in a crazed voice wouldn't get him to jump ship." Feeling the burn of tea going down the wrong pipe but finally able to breathe properly, she elected to set the tea down while giving it a baleful look for its part in all this.

"Hermione, I have the utmost confidence in you to convince Severus of the error of his ways. While he was an exceedingly stubborn man he was always logical and well-reasoned. You'll have to appeal to his logic and with a vision or two to stir the pot it should be enough to sway him. If you were to foretell the death of Lily should he not change his ways it should start him along the right path." Glancing regretfully at the empty portrait next to him, Dumbledore wondered what the dark haired man would think of their plotting. Severus Snape had never accepted his portrait in the Headmistress' office, instead he had bounded out of his frame the minute the artist had finished. Occasionally, when Dumbledore took the occasion to visit the other paintings at Hogwarts, he would see a flash of black before it was gone. Severus was no more forgiving of him in the afterlife than he had been when living.

Minerva drew the eyes of the other occupants in the room by reaching once more into her desk to collect a large stack of ledgers. "It goes without saying that these must never fall into anyone else's hands. They are Severus' records of where he was and what happened any given day during the first war. His meticulous nature will be our saving grace this time around." She pushed the stack towards Hermione.

Giving her old head of house a doubtful glance she accepted the ledgers, pulling the top into her lap. Opening it up, she noted the neat handwriting, cramped between lines and dates with sparse information.

"_January 1__st__, 1980 Our Lord has called a meeting at the Malfoy estate to celebrate a recent success. It seems entertainment will be provided as Crabbe and Goyle have made the necessary arrangements to secure company for the night for the gathering. My Lord has said he has need of me to brew a potion of some difficulty, will find out more details tonight."_

Flipping until she could see the date of March 6th squatting halfway down the page she read on.

"_March 6__th__, 1980 Our Lord has blessedly given his Inner Circle the day off, as it were. After the revel last night I find myself appreciating the lull. While I was aware blood traitors were a scourge it seemed heavy handed to eradicate the children as well. Now, to bed."_

While the subject matter sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine she couldn't help but be heartened by his doubt. Severus Snape had never been a cold-blooded murderer, at least when no one had provoked his rage and even then the idea of him purposefully killing someone without the means to fight back didn't fit what she knew of him. Voldemort would have been pushing his followers to more violent extremes at the time, as he was ascending to the height of his power in the first war, it would make sense for Snape to be having misgivings. No doubt, Lily's untimely death and realization of Voldemort's lie had pushed him over the edge onto the other side but the board had been set long before. Severus Snape could be swayed. Feeling slightly more optimistic about her chances of convincing the rudest man she had ever met to hear her out Hermione looked back to Minerva.

"Hermione, we are placing a great burden upon you but if there has been one thing you have always done it has been exceeding expectations." Smiling fondly at her protégé, Minerva marched on, "We can give you two weeks to prepare, if you agree to take on this mission. You will need to study Severous' journals, newspaper clippings, Order reports, note happenings both human and worldly that you could draw upon to establish your credibility as a Seer, in addition to perfecting your cover."

Hermione needed little time to think over her answer, "I'll do it. Voldemort has come back. What has to be done has to be done. Even if it means become the next Sybill Trelawney. Which, I'll need access to her prophecy regarding Harry so I can get the feel for what a trance looks and sounds like. I'll take a leave of absence from my job tonight, I've got enough days off piled up I could take a month off without notice. What's the worst they can do, fire me?" She joked, flexing her hands on her knees as if eager to fill them with papers and pens, anything to flesh out the plan that left her feeling exposed and nervous at the very idea of trying to fool the best spy of all time.

"As for your cover," Dumbledore chimed in, "I believe I have thought of something suitable for our purposes. What do you know of India, Miss Granger?"

"It has the largest population of any country, hosts a wide variety of languages and religion, as well as being known for its distinguished and old community of witches and wizards. While blood purity is an issue, the more pressing concern is that of the caste the witch or wizard descends from though much like their muggle counter parts the traditional conception of the caste system has officially fallen by the wayside." She mused aloud, searching her mind for other relevant facts.

"Quite right, a witch coming from India would be in a unique position to not have her references readily available as well as being forgiven should she not know all the realities of everyday life in 1980 in Europe. To this effect, with some minor alterations to your appearance you could be reasonably believed to be of mixed decent."

"I'll work a study of Indian culture into my homework." Giving the Headmaster a small smile she could feel the certainty building in her. While the night had thrown her for a loop initially and the notion of discovering what else Voldemort had done to himself left her with a sickness deep in her stomach she was beginning to feel the determination that had gotten her through the last war rise up. A single-mindedness that left no room for failure. They would fight and they would win.

"I'll just let Poppy know to expect you in ten days' time, then!" Dumbledore rose, ready to walk out of the portrait before Hermione's befuddled shouting for him to wait stopped him.

"Well, surely you know that glamours won't work, not around the people you'll be for such long periods of time. No, something a bit more permanent is in order. Poppy can perform the necessary medical procedures but you would be wise to invest in black hair dye as well, in a large quantity. Wouldn't want to run out! Good day, Miss Granger." Without further adieu he walked out of his portrait leaving Minerva to explain to a rather shocked Hermione that she couldn't really have expected to keep her appearance, did she?

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did! Dying my hair is one thing but a medical procedure? Minerva, honestly! I'm just a baby in 1980, surely some glamours or dye would do." Feeling like she was being a tad irrational at her vehemence because she really should have expected something similar Hermione crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair, showing her stubborn refusing to a medical procedure.

"Come now, surely you know that you will be in the past for the rest of your life and you can't very well expect all of the teachers not to notice when eleven years after you start teaching there is a smaller version of you roaming the halls." The Headmistress tutted, eyeing her former pupil as she had many times after she had gotten into some form of mischief.

It was one thing to agree to travel to the past, destroy the horcruxes, and then figure out what else Voldemort had done to himself, destroy him, and then live the rest of her life in the new timeline. It was another thing entirely to agree to medical procedures. At least, she had thought immediately upon hearing it. If she had really wanted to be honest with herself she could admit her fear of all things medical had come about later in life. No dentists' child got to have a procedure free childhood, even if only on teeth. However, after her torture session with Bellatrix, the idea of willingly going anywhere near where a healer was struck her temporally dumb with fear. Going into danger where spells were firing off was less frightening than that. She had, in moments when she couldn't help it, thought that she had never really dealt with her experience of torture. She had moved on, viciously used her Occlumency to clamp down on the night terrors and thoughts that had come from it. However, something about the smell of antiseptic and the brush of bandages against her flesh took her right back to the manor and Shell cottage, being wracked with pain.

It was with these thoughts in mind that she drew her mind and its paths to the forefront, clamping down on the fear and shoving it to the back. "You're right; it will need to be done." If her voice was slightly more even keeled McGonagall made no mention of it.

"Good, I will owl you with the exact time for you to see Poppy. Meanwhile, you have enough to be getting on with. I will secure you some funds to go back in time with. Though, it will be little. We can't risk the goblins finding out that there are duplicated coins floating about. I will also see to it that you have an acceptable supply of necessary potions. If there is anything else you can think of that I would need to do, please do not hesitate to ask." Rising rather stiffly Hermione was reminded that Minerva was no longer the young woman she had been, especially after taking four stunners to the chest at once and fighting in two wars.

"Would it be possible for me to floo out, Headmistress?" Hermione enquired, shrinking the ledgers from Snape and placing them into her satchel.

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of making you wade through that snow again. Especially with what you young people consider shoes these days." Casting a rather superior look down at her heels McGonagall strode over to an oaken cabinet and retrieved a small vial holding a silvery string of memory. Gathering up her cloak and accepting the small vial with its label reading "_Divination Interview – 1980" _she shrugged to show her thoughts on the matter of her shoes.

"I tend to agree with you but the ministry is rather particular about employees representing themselves well and they seem to think fashion the way to do it." It was no wonder Lucius Malfoy had so spectacularly embedded himself into the ministry after the first war. Anyone who reeked of opulence and splendor like that could get a red carpet rolled out that headed straight to the highest levels.

"I think you should know that I have the same fondness for tea 25 years ago that I do now, should you want the company." Minerva offered, collecting Hermione into a hug that left the younger woman to blink back tears.

"That would be marvelous. I have a feeling being without Harry and Ron will leave me with an open social calendar." Giving the older woman a soft squeeze to convey her thanks Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps the past wouldn't be quite as lonely a place as she had believed it would be.

* * *

Stepping back from the embrace, she watched the younger witch draw a small pinch of floo powder, throw it into the fireplace, and disappear off home. Without having to turn around she knew Albus was back and, if the itch between her shoulders was accurate, staring right at her.

"A remarkable witch." It was spoken softly; as if afraid he would spook her if he was too loud.

"Yes, yes she is... Do you really think it will work, Albus? She was right to be concerned about using the cover of a divination professor, she's not a seer and sooner or later the timeline will alter enough she won't be able to make predictions that can come true with any certainty." There was something comforting about a warm fire on a cold night, Minerva thought as she voiced her doubts aloud. While they had gone over the plan in great detail, there was always that seed of doubt. What if they could defeat Voldemort again without resorting to time travel? Would Hermione be able to craft a better world or would it be far more terrible? It felt like a supreme gamble and she wondered once again, if it was indeed worth it.

"And that is why we decided it must be her. When her cover fails, she will need every ounce of cunning and intelligence she possesses to continue on and still be accepted. Her memory will serve her well, something that many others simply wouldn't be able to do. Who else could be expected to memorize so many dates and information in just a few short weeks? We can't risk sending anything written back and she is well known for her near perfect recollection of facts." Minerva could hear the shades of emotion, shaping the words but underneath it all was the fact they had asked someone to sacrifice everything they knew to change it all and try to bring about a better future.

Waving her hand dismissively at the portrait, the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry retired to bed ignoring Albus' soft call of "goodnight."

* * *

Stepping out of her fireplace she was glad to see Crookshanks make his way over to her, rubbing along her calves with the air of a lord granting someone below him a favor as he turned his squashed face up towards her and mewled petulantly.

"I know, I'm late with your meal but we've talked about this and you could afford to lose some weight." The ginger cat chose then to flip his tail in the air and saunter away, leaving her with a view she could have done without. Muttering about cats and their unreasonable nature she set down her cloak and bag while kicking off her shoes in the direction of the door. With a flick of her wand, her radio came to life. While she had always been something of a loner, she was fond of people being around. In the absence of house guests, the radio did nicely to make her home feel more inviting and alive.

Ambling to the kitchen she set about giving Crookshanks his evening meal, barely avoiding giving him a little extra. While it was true that he needed to lose weight, he always seemed so happy when she gave him a bit more that she often related and spooned in the extra food. If it meant a warm, purring ball of fluff in her lap as she did work she was more than happy to do it.

Leaning against the counter while watching Crookshanks dig into his meal and eating as if he hadn't been fed for weeks instead of hours Hermione decided to take the bandy-legged animal with her. If she was going to go to a time with absolutely no friends she was at least going to have a pet who knew her. It would also to help establish her as someone who was new and moving in to the area, she thought with triumph. Pushing off the counter to fetch a glass of wine she went through the many things she would need to do before she left. First, to send a letter to her boss, Mr. Donovan, to inform him of a personal emergency that would take her two weeks to sort out.

Plucking the cork from the bottle and pouring herself a generous amount, she sat down to do just that. Rolling the vague and short letter into a suitable size for her owl to grab hold off, she sent it off. Now, for the real work of reading the ledgers. What had possessed Snape to leave a detailed accounting of what happened in the first war was puzzling. The man was known for his secrecy and as a spy surely having written proof of his actions could be a quick way to meet a messy end. Perhaps, when she went back, she would ask him. For now, she had to begin the grim business of reading his descent into the madness of the Death Eaters as well as the things he had done.

Taking the first ledger from the bag and enlarging it back to its normal size Hermione took a deep breath and began.

* * *

Updated Sep. 30, 2013. Thank you to all who pointed out my spelling errors, I appreciate it! If you see anymore let me know and I'll go back and fix it up!


	3. Chapter 3

_July 20, 1981 Things are getting worse. I have told Dumbledore all I know of the Dark Lord's plans and still he is gaining power. The Order has suffered major blows as of late and I am left to wonder how much longer it will be possible for them to stay alive let alone a viable risk to the Dark Lord. Fabian and Gideon Prewatt were killed by a raid specifically planned for them and led by Dolohov just a week ago. Dolohov has never been known for quick or merciful deaths and was insistent it went on for hours. No one had told me that it had been planned; the Dark Lord has ordered me away from the raids and has instead been having me brew a large amount of basic medicinal potions. I can't help but feel that something major is planned. Everyone seems to be on edge but no one has mentioned any large scale offenses being planned. There are rumors we have gained a spy in the Order however such things always circulate whenever the Dark Lord is able to get the jump on the Order. _

Looking up from the book that as the days turned seemed more and more to become a diary of sorts for Snape, Hermione straightened, her spine popping its protest at the movement. Rubbing soothing circles into her lower back, she took in what she had read. While he had transcribed dates and general information it was far from the exacting details she would have preferred. She would have to rely on what sparse information she did have, she didn't expect to be able to collaborate the stories to what would be in the Prophet. It may make mention of deaths but the details would be swept aside in favor of the paranoia inherent in war. Journalists that did their reporting too closely often found themselves targets when the perpetuators of crime were running about with impunity and reading the papers themselves.

The old clock that hung crookedly from the far wall of the kitchen seemed to admonish her, reading half past three. Giving it up for the night, she packed up the ledgers-turned-diaries and took them with her up to her room where Crookshanks had already taken up his spot on the bed. Leaving the books on her nightstand, she made her way to the bathroom. Years of her parents careful harping had caused her to develop a routine of personal hygiene that would not be by-passed even if she was falling over tired.

Sighing around her toothpaste, Hermione couldn't help but dread the upcoming farewells and goodbyes that couldn't even be truly that. She couldn't very well tell Harry and Ron that she was off to the time of their parents. They would either want to come or would want to stop her. Most likely stop her. Harry would no doubt argue that he had defeated Voldemort once before and could be counted on again. But, they had families now. Seven years out from the battle of Hogwarts and both her closest friends had settled down both professionally and emotionally. Harry was father to one little boy named James and Ginny looked ready to burst with their second. Ron had settled down with a fellow auror and they were happily expecting their first child. They had so much to lose in the looming war than Hermione could bear to think of.

It felt odd though, to be contemplating going on some grand adventure without her boys with her, completing her as she completed them. While the dynamic had changed with the addition of spouses and little ones, the strength of their bond had never lessened. Something for which she was supremely grateful for. Ginny being in their group had never altered their dynamic, instead adding to the balance. Instead of Harry being in the middle of a row between Ron and herself, Ginny could intercede. If Ginny and Harry were fighting, both she and Ron could conquer and divide. Something that had provided Hermione with no shortage of girls' nights out laughing so hard that their sides hurt. But, their group had expanded the second Ginny had announced the happy news. In some corner of her heart, she had hoped it could have always stay like it was. It just felt so right, so natural to have the dynamic as it was.

That wistfulness had disinigrated when she had been asked to be the godmother of their son. Her family was growing. It also helped that Harry had been on cloud nine during the entire pregnancy and seeing him hold his son for the first time had brought her swiftly to tears. He had held the infant as if the most precious thing in the entire world, like he could simply not believe how lucky he was. While her sudden crying had been the subject of much laughter for a year and a half now, Hermione stood by the fact that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and if she felt like crying she was going to bloody well cry!

Her relationship with Ron was one should would never be able to pin down to words. It felt a bit to her like what a brother and sister was but decidedly different. Their brief time as lovers had been tempestuous but breathtaking. It had been decided after two months of fighting and, ahem, making up that the decision to break it off had been made. They had both agreed it would be for the best and it did not take Ron long to find the love of his life.

When Ron had flooed into her office a month after they had broken up looking like he wanted to throw up, she had carefully set aside her work to give the man her undivided attention. When he had finally spilled the beans that he was seeing someone and hoping that she wouldn't be mad at him being that it was so soon after the end of their relationship she had stood, hugged him, and told him to stop being silly. She suspected he had thought he would be receiving another round of canaries to his face instead of her whole-hearted support and ignored the way he had stiffened when she had hugged him, no doubt worried she might decide to hex him just yet.

With the mumbled reprimand of, "Honestly, Ronald." He had relaxed into the hug. With that, the matter had been settled.

Shaking her head of her thoughts and resolutely finishing her nighttime regime, Hermione snuggled into her bed eager to let herself drift off in oblivion.

* * *

Waking up with a cat on one's face was, in Hermione's opinion, the quickest way to not only scare one half to death but get one up in the morning. Snapping up into a sitting position, she was rather pleased to see Crookshanks fall onto the floor with a less than graceful thud.

"Serves you right!" Narrowing her eyes at her familiar she swung her legs out of the bed careful not to accidentally step on the cat that was shooting her a rather disgruntled look.

"Now, I don't suppose you can give me a moment, your highness?" She enquired, moving towards the bathroom to tame the mass that was her hair. Emerging downstairs minutes later, she fed him before moving on to fish an apple out of the fridge and put on the kettle.

There was so much yet to do. Only being halfway through Snape's journals left her feeling unprepared to even start combing the Prophet. Not to mention there was the grating task of trying to flesh out her cover story. Dumbledore had given her precious little to go on; merely that she should be from India. Biting into her apple she mulled over her options. She would need a basis for having Seer in her heritage as well as giving reason for why she wouldn't have an accent, at least not as thickly as a local would. Not to mention, her rather pale complexion would seem odd to claim Indian heritage with.

Collecting her tea in one hand and making her way to the living room that was more library than a space to entertain, she reseated herself in her comfiest chair. Setting down her tea and apple to collect her laptop from the nearby side table she set about looking for a detailed map of the subcontinent. It would be better to be from a less known city rather than a bustling metropolis like New Delhi where records were more likely to be kept, she decided. Being from the northern part of India would also help to explain her light skin pigmentation; she narrowed down, looking north of Delhi as her eyes settled on the name Shimla. Looking into the history of the city, she was pleased to note that it had become the summer capital of the British Raj in 1863 and had a long history of British involvement in the area. It was perfect, providing a workable explanation for Indian heritage while also providing a British background.

She decided that her father would have been British and her mother Indian from a long line of well to-do that had married into the British elite who had come to the area. Her 'Seer' abilities, the very thought made her snort aloud with distaste, could come from her mother's side. With that settled she also quickly concluded they would have to be out of the picture. Reclaiming her tea and taking a fortifying swig of it she mused on. Yes, she could be seeking to come to live in Europe to reconnect with her father after having grown up in the county of her mother. Smiling to herself, she felt like she had a rather workable cover. She could explain away her paleness, her English accent, as well as why should would suddenly drop her life in India to come to a strange country.

Now, for the name. Puzzling over a nice mix of names that would nod to both sides of her 'heritage' she recalled a girl she had gone to school with when she was eight by the name of Maya Dunn who had been Indian. The girl had a rather nasty temper that had been the cause of more than one bout of accidental magic on Hermione's part. The girl had soon learned to leave Hermione alone once her favorite doll had suddenly been found sticking halfway out of a tree in the playground. Giving a small shrug of her shoulders, she resigned herself to being called the name of a childhood bully.

Feeling marginally more accomplished than she had when she had woken up, she stowed away her laptop in the nearby drawer and ambled to the kitchen, intent on asking Ron and Harry to make some time in their busy schedules for her in the next week.

* * *

Being the Brain of the Golden Trio had prepared Hermione well for the task of burying herself in work and only popping up when pesky things like missed meals and sleep began to weigh too heavily on her. After a full day of combing through northern Indian culture as well as firing off letters to friends, family, and Minerva to seek her approval of her cover story Hermione was ravenous. Making her way to the coat closet and grabbing the warmest jacket she had along with her bag and scarf Hermione resolutely walked out of her apartment to begin the process of visiting all those she would miss.

Locking the door while squirming into her coat, Hermione did a quick pat down of her hair that had risen to Bride of Frankenstein like proportions from combing her fingers through it all day. Nodding to herself that she had done everything necessary, she turned on the spot and apparated. Turning up in a quiet neighborhood blanketed with a healthy cover of snow which made it seem all the more picturesque. Squaring her shoulders she quickly began walking to avoid any muggles catching sight of a woman appearing out of thin air.

Silently thanking whoever had decency to shovel the walkway she made her way towards her parents' home while stuffing her wand into her bag. Knocking her shoes against the steps to dislodge what snow had gathered on her trainers she knocked on the door and was rewarded by the sound of someone shuffling around inside.

"Hermione, dear, what are you doing here?" Jane Granger exclaimed, taking in the sight of her daughter standing on her doorstep looking worse for the wear with deep bags under her eyes.

"I just wanted to come by, Mom. I'm sorry for not calling. I was just in the area." With a shrug of her shoulders she looked past her mother to the smiling face of her father.

Reaching around his wife to gather his daughter up into a hug, George Granger was not pleased to find she had lost weight again, "Hermione, you're skin and bones." Holding her out at arm's length to inspect his only child he was not pleased with what he found, "Some things never change. You, young lady, have not been eating and sleeping properly."

Torn between smiling and rolling her eyes in exasperation Hermione decided to settle for brushing past her parents to get inside, "Yes, Dad. I have been eating and sleeping, it's just been rather busy at work." If she hadn't been turning around to hang up her coat she would have missed the haunted expression that passed over her parents' faces. Ever since she had modified their memories any talk of the magical world, no matter how oblique, was painfully unwelcome in the Granger household. Even the notion that their daughter worked in the magical world seemed to be something they would rather not think about. While it was hard for Hermione not to be able to tell her parents about the inroads she was making in her research it seemed a very small matter when she saw how they would flinch whenever her wand would come into view from where it was tucked in her bag when she visited.

Pushing on, Hermione hung her coat on the stand, putting her purse next to it. Noticing the tip of her wand peeping out from the side pocket of her bag she threw her scarf on top of it. Best not to scare them anymore than they already were, she reasoned.

"I'll just be in the kitchen then," Mrs. Granger gestured vaguely to the other room and offered her daughter a small smile.

"I'll be in to help in a minute," waving away her mother's automatic refusal she plowed on. "I got a new computer and I want to tell Dad about it." Her father's eyes lit up as if she had just announced she had bought it for him instead of herself.

Seating herself on the family couch with her father in his favorite armchair seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It was their spot, where they had debated philosophy and literature more times than she could count. Tucking her feet underneath herself, she settled into a comfortable position for what she knew would be a long discussion. She had built up a nice collection of electronic goods over the years, one of the ways she still connected with her parents who had asked she not talk about magic around them after she had given them back their memories and told them the whole story. It had hurt her terribly to have her parents blatantly reject a part of her that was as vital as any limb. Only the knowledge that they still continued to talk to her when she had expected them to want nothing to do with her had held her tongue from pleading with them to accept that part of her like they once had.

So, as a way to bridge the gap, she had taken up a lively interest in electronics and other muggle inventions. When her father had gotten a laptop, she had gone out to get one the next chance she got. While it was far from personal, talking with her dad about the processing speed in order to hear him get excited about speaking with her was well worth it.

After a lively debate on what exactly a computer needed to be considered 'good', her father maintaining that a computer without solitaire was no computer at all, Hermione excused herself to the kitchen.

"What are you making, Mom?" Taking a delicate whiff of the air she noted it had something of an earthy scent.

"Palak paneer, it's an Indian dish. Your father and I have been getting sick of having the same meals all the time so we've decided to shake things up a bit. Would you roll out the roti?" Mrs. Granger was in her element in the kitchen, always a proficient chef in Hermione's childhood she had become nothing short of excellent after Hermione had gone away to Hogwarts, freeing up some of her time to make more intricate meals. Her mother's meal choice struck her, making her impeding journey seem much closer than thirteen days away.

Taking a small ball of dough and placing it on the wooden board, Hermione carefully rolled it out and placed it in a pan to brown. Getting the next ball of dough ready by rolling it in flour before taking a rolling pin to flatten it Hermione let herself enjoy simply having the presence of her family around it. While she had not gone home much during her time at Hogwarts, in the years following she had made an effort to come back as much as possible. Making dinner with her mother had quickly become one of her favorite things to do when visiting. Jane Granger was not a talkative woman by nature but the love she put into her actions spoke loudly of her deep caring for family and friends alike. Connecting with her mother like this was one of the things that had helped Hermione in her recovery after the war, someone who was just there. No questions or demands of her. Just love.

While her parents would never be her parents in the same way again, having this night with her family soothed Hermione as it had when she was small and afraid of the dark. Her parents' steady love and affection had convinced her younger self that nothing would happen so long as they were there. Now, though she knew her parents would not be able to be there for her in the same way, she would always know they loved her and supported her, no matter the price.

Turning over the roti to cook on the other side she couldn't help but be amazed as her mother bustled about the kitchen with all the grace of a ballerina, "Mom, when did you start cooking?"

Taking in the question Mrs. Granger continued to set the table, "Well, I was in Uni and the food my roommate made was terrible. The poor girl was so absent-minded she would burn everything and didn't have much in the way of time so anything she did try to make was a variant on the same dish. I had never had stir-fry so much in my life!" Laughing fondly, she continued. "After about a week of it, I decided then and there that I was going to learn to cook if it killed me, which, if I had let her keep cooking it would have! But, it worked out rather well once I got the hang of it. I enjoyed it because it took my mind off my studies and gave me time to just relax. Why do you ask dear?"

"Well, you've always been so good at it and I realized I never really asked after it." Giving her mother a lopsided smile she couldn't help but think that her mother's roommate reminded her of another absent-minded woman she knew. Imagining Luna Lovegood in the kitchen left her with a mild sensation of panic.

In truth, she wanted to absorb every iota of her parents that she could. All the little idiosyncrasies of them and store them away like precious gold. While she had not broken down into tears upon accepting her mission, she could honestly say she hadn't felt as she did now since being on the hunt for horcruxes. Bursts of desperation and panic dancing along the edges of her mind, forcing her to take calming breathes.

Smiling her way through dinner, she made a point to hug both of her parents tightly before she left for the night. If they noticed that she seemed to linger in the doorway longer than usual, they made no comment aside from telling her of their love for her. Echoing the statement, she was back out onto the street with lamplight to guide her as she made her way to a dark area where she could safely leave from.

Looking back to take in the sight of her childhood home for one last time, she steeled herself. It wouldn't do to splinch herself because she wasn't putting her mind to its task. Turning on her heel, she disappeared from the quiet neighborhood with a crack of finality. Taking off her coat in the warmth of her own home and unwinding her scarf from her neck gave her something to keep her hands busy as the thought kept flooding through her mind.

Going to teach in Hogwarts in the 1980s meant not having her connection to the muggle world, her parents. The people who had taken her on exotic vacations, instilled in her the love of reading, and grounded her throughout her life. While she could admit the relationship was no longer as rock solid as it had been, the idea of losing her biological family as well as her family of friends left her feeling melancholy. Not to mention, being a muggleborn had been one of her reasons to fight in the war. To lose what had quite literally made her who she was made her feel like a boat adrift.

Sitting down on the ground she scooped up the ginger cat that had been making his way to the living room and buried her head in his fur. Breathing deeply she tried to calm her mind and make peace with the situation. She had agreed to this mission knowing full well that it would be the hardest thing she had ever done. It would be beyond the scope of altering her parents' memory; it would be erasing her all together. Hermione Granger would be, in some ways, gone. Surgically removed and implanted elsewhere without her support system to help her.

"It's just you and me, Crooks." Mumbling into his fur she could practically feel his put upon expression. "I know. I'm being rather silly. I'm just very glad I can take you with me." Giving her pet one last squeeze, she released him from her embrace. It was time for her to continue to prepare and time waited for no one. Least of all Hermione Granger.

* * *

I'd like to thank everyone who has read this story and took the time to favorite, review, or follow. It makes this author positively giddy with joy! Also, if you should notice some spelling or grammatical errors, feel free to point them out to me. I try to comb through the chapters for errors but things slip through. Voldermort, indeed! I hope you enjoy! Updated Sep. 30, 2013


	4. Chapter 4

_July 30__th__, 1981 The Dark Lord has secured alliances with the werewolves, giants, and dementors. At his command, they will come to his aid. He is releasing Fenrir on those that keep their children from becoming Death Eaters. The victims have been terrible to see once they are brought in and informed what has happened to their kin. The Dark Lord is well pleased with how things are progressing. He is gaining more and more support as his examples are published in the news and rumor is spread about what happens to those who go against his might. I can only hope it does not drag out much longer. I will be meeting with the Malfoys tonight about being Draco's god-father. It is quite the honor. I am eager to spend a night with a glass of firewhiskey, a friend, and a warm fire. _

_August 1__st__, 1981 The light has gone out of my life._

Eight days left until she was to begin her mission left Hermione feeling like an overstuffed toy. She had never really enjoyed History of Magic and memorizing so many dates, times, and places was beginning to grate on her. Wading through Severus' ledgers, the Prophet, and general news for the time all hours of the day had her pushing away from her kitchen table that had become the base of her operations and in search of a strong cup of coffee. Tea was fine most times but Hermione had discovered that little kept her going through long hours of tedious work like coffee.

Pouring herself a generous amount, she surveyed her home. The space was modest, nothing too extravagant but it was functional. A place that after years living in the dormitories with so many people crushed around her at all hours had seemed like a beacon of freedom. Glancing at the clock she was pleased to note she still had three hours before she was due to meet with Harry and Ron, plenty of time to accomplish what she had been putting off for so long. Watching the pensieve memory of the Divination interview was something she had pushed to the very bottom of her priorities for going back in time. She still thought Minerva and Albus were greatly mistaken about what would best afford herself to know past events but could little argue it would keep from The Prophecy from being uttered and the Mauraders from suffering their fates as it had played out. Sadly, with just over a week left she was forced to set her coffee down to fetch her pensieve basin and watch the memory.

Plucking the vial from her satchel where it had safely rested since her meeting she uncorked it and took a large drink of her coffee. Best to be caffeinated when around her most disliked teacher. Pouring the memory in, she leaned forward and was swept into the memory.

She was in the Hog's Head, above the bar in the long hallway with rooms sprinkled along. Dumbledore was walking with purpose towards one in particular, not bothered by the state of disrepair the building was in as it creaked beneath his footfalls. To Hermione's assessing eye it seemed that The Hog's Head was in better shape in 1980 than in her current time, no doubt magic kept the building together enough to prevent being declared unfit for habitation.

Dumbledore's crisp knocks against a door drew her from her perusal of the peeling wallpaper to see the youthful visage of her former professor pop out of the doorway.

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore, please come in. I am most grateful you have decided to interview me, of course with my Inner Eye I knew it would be so." Chortling at how barmy the woman sounded, she followed Dumbledore in.

"Thank you, Ms. Trewlaney. It is, of course, my pleasure. As it is the school year I'm afraid we will have to keep it rather short. While the cat is away the mice will play, or students, as it were." Gesturing to the small table tucked in the corner, Dumbledore seemed to be in more control in the woman's space than she was. Sybill quickly seated herself, arranging her large shawl to drape over her thin frame.

"In your letter of inquiry, you stated you were the great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney, correct?" At the mention of her relative, Trelawney seemed to draw herself up; gaining a look of superiority that was at odds with the squalor she was surrounded by.

"Yes, my family is possessed by the Fates. My great-great-grandmother simply listened to her natural calling. Since then, my family has thought our gift too powerful to bestow on this realm." She pontificated, each syllable wispy and deliberate. "I have decided the world is in need of my Inner Eye. Given this, it seemed the most natural thing to teach to spread the gift of Sight."

"Ah, a noble calling, indeed. Have you ever taught children?" Not pausing her let her answer he conjured a piping hot pot of tea and two cups. "I hope you'll join me for some tea." With a wave of his wand, the tea pot had poured itself and settled back onto the table.

"Tea, tea would be wonderful." Trelawney agreed hesitantly. "I have not taught children before such a precious gift. It has only been recently that the Fates have informed me that it is my calling to do so." Hermione could not help but roll her eyes even knowing that the woman actually was a Seer and not a charlatan.

"I seem to be in need of some romantic advice, would you mind giving me a tarot reading?" He pulled a deck from his sleeve and passed it over to the woman opposite him that looked like she would rather throw up than predict Dumbledore's future.

"Well yes, of course I do not normally See through the use of cards but for such an esteemed guest I will see if the Fates are in a mood to assist." Making note that Dumbledore was likely to throw any and every means of divination at her for the interview, Hermione resolved to dig up her copy of _Unfogging the Future _in case he decided to be particularly exacting.

Hermione couldn't help but wince at how terribly the reading had gone. One of the cards had been The Fool which Trelawney had encouraged the Headmaster to court individuals who dressed in unkempt clothing and showed a lack of rational thought. Her next task of reading the tea leaves from Dumbledore's cup proved to be too much for the poor woman who after declaring she saw a grim had looked ready to burst into tears.

"I want to thank you for your hospitality but I really must be going," Dumbledore rose and began to walk towards the door only stopping to look back when he heard her speak.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..._"

To Hermione, it seemed as if for a few moments, something had scooped out Sybill Trelawney, used her body for a lark, and then stuffed her back in to sway on the spot. Dumbledore looked as if he himself was about to feint from pure shock before he collected himself.

"I'm sorry, did I just nod off?" The nervous woman asked, looking frantic at the idea.

"No, no you did not. As a matter of fact, I would be pleased to offer you the job of Professor of Divination at Hogwarts for the 1980/1981 school year."

Before she could as much as blink, she was back in her kitchen leaning over the basin. Collecting the memory back into the vial left Hermione to wonder how she was going to emulate such a strange performance. Bustling to the closest mirror she tried to affect a similar voice. It came out far too deep and her face looked more shocked than devoid of expression which she was going for. After a half an hour of twisting her face every which way and repeating cryptic phrases she gave it up in favor of a shower before going to see her boys.

Flooing in to the Potter household was a dangerous task. With James a highly mobile toddler, a very pregnant Ginny that swung between loving everything and ready to verbally eviscerate whatever upset her, and a harried Harry running about trying to manage the madness Hermione usually tried to stay clear of the household. Not that she had anything against children in short bursts but spending longer than half an hour and the screeches got to her. Not to mention, as godmother, the Potter's believed that meant she was willing to change diapers and mop up other unfortunate body fluids. She had been very eloquent on the matter the first time they had asked and had staunchly refused to reconsider her position when they had asked later. Thus, house visits were reserved for minor things and outings or social gatherings were for more substantial catch-ups. With limited time remaining and her boys both being busy with work, she was left her with no other option.

Exiting the fireplace into the Potter household to see Ginny smiling at her from the floor as she and James played with miniature quidditch figures made Hermione grin. Ginny had been made for motherhood, it seemed. She was naturally nurturing and had infinite patience with children. These things coupled with her love of large families had set her firmly on the road her mother had been on before her.

"Ginny, you look marvelous!" Rushing to help her friend up from the floor, Ginny favored her friend with a delighted smile.

"Thank you Hermione, it's getting harder and harder. Shouldn't be long now and he should be out instead of playing beat the bludger with my bladder." Chuckling ruefully, Ginny rubbed one hand along her swollen midsection. "It's good to see you Hermione, it's been ages!"

Following her hostess to the kitchen, Hermione couldn't help but ruffle her god-sons hair on the way. "It's been far too long. The ministry never stops though." Catching sight of Harry at the table with papers spread around him and looking like death made her nervous. Harry rarely took his work home and when he did it was a high level case that involved loss of life.

"Can I get you anything, Hermione?" Ginny was already off, heating the kettle and grabbing the tea leaves.

"Tea would be lovely. Harry, you look terrible!" The Auror had perked up upon hearing the two women enter the kitchen and had quickly swooped in to give her a hug.

"Why thank you, Hermione. How nice of you to come into my home and tell me how horrible I look!" Harry joked, giving her a lopsided grin as she playfully punched him in the arm.

"Honestly, you've got Ginny looking after you and you still worked yourself into a state! What happened?" Sitting down at the table Hermione tried to catch a glimpse of the files as Harry scooped them up.

Setting the freshly brewed tea down in front of their guest, Ginny excused herself, "I think it's time James and I took our nap. It was wonderful to see you, Hermione." Dropping a kiss on top of her husband's head and giving Hermione's shoulder a light squeeze, she exited the room.

After seeing that his wife had scooped up his son and went upstairs, Harry resumed where he had left off, "I can't let you see the files, Kingsley would have my head. But, have you heard any whispers recently?" Resisting the urge to exhale loudly, Hermione mentally confirmed that she had heard a great many whispers and would be leaving soon to deal with them.

"I've read about the disappearances in the Prophet. They seem to be trying to keep it hush-hush." Seeing Harry comb his fingers through his unruly hair didn't bode well in her book.

"Yah, that's because it is being covered up. We haven't had this many cold cases since the end of the war. It's maddening. It's not like they all just got up and walked away. The people who have been reported missing are described as dependable, grounded, and important in their respective fields. Not the people who usually decide to drop everything and make a go of it in Morocco." He explained, placing the papers in his briefcase and carefully closing it.

"What do you think is behind it?" She asked eager to get more information out of one of those most intimately acquainted with Voldemort.

"It seems there is a rising power, we're getting rumors of people gathering. When we go to interview those who might have information on the disappearances they're being unusually tight lipped. Not outright unhelpful, then we could do something about it. Just, they seem nervous. The families of those that disappeared are starting to leave town when we come calling. It's like they know something we don't. It's frustrating, really frustrating. It's all pointing to some group. Not organized crime, that would be easier to pin down to economic interests. The people that are disappearing are researchers, notable people in their fields. Just yesterday a prominent potioneer just walked out of their shop. Middle of the day. Got a call from her significant other that she had never come home. A week before there was a wizard known as the leading source on what we would consider mythological creatures that went to the loo in the middle of a book signing and hasn't been seen or heard from since. We've checked out their backgrounds, all law-abiding citizens with no known enemies. It just doesn't add up." He deflated, as if divulging so much had drained him.

"I hadn't heard of the researchers, they're not in the Prophet." Drumming her fingers on the table Hermione resisted the urge to tell Harry of her upcoming journey, instead taking a fortifying sip of her tea.

Leaning back in his chair, he regarded his friend, "Yah, didn't want to create a mass panic. You have the old wards on your place, right?" The "old wards" were the high level wards she had cast on their camp site while on the run. They had been reinforced over the years and added upon but her warding was infamous in their friend circle, something that had caused her to be the unofficial warding expert called upon whenever Harry or Ron moved in to a new place.

Waving her hand dismissively she continued to sip at her tea, "Of course they're up, I'll look into what I can add to them though if it will make you feel better. I'll let you know if I find anything you and Ginny could use. I really don't think they would be interested in my research though, there aren't more than a handful of people that even know what I do anyway. "

Harry's skeptical look clearly showed he thought differently. "Hermione, you were a big part of bringing down Voldemort, you're brilliant, and you work on top secret research for the government. But, you're right, no one with nefarious purposes would be interested in you."

Plowing through his concerns Hermione continued on, "Who is working on the case?"

"Ron, Kingsley, Anders, and myself. We're trying to keep it to a minimum that way it doesn't get out to the press. Ron is there right now, he really wanted to come but the four of us are rotating with two hour overlap time to catch the next person up on what we've figured out. Or, as it has been, what additional questions we're trying to figure out." Humming her understanding Hermione couldn't help but feel disheartened. She wouldn't get to see Ron before she left and the way Harry looked it would soon be time to end her visit in favor of letting him get some sleep.

"Any theories on why they would be taking the researchers they have taken?" Hermione could think of a few herself. Voldemort was known for his use of potions in reclaiming his body, but the mythical creature expert would require more research.

"We can't be sure if it's a weapon or something else that they're developing but whatever it is, it's not good." Feeling as if someone had punched her in the gut, her mind raced. Of course Voldemort wouldn't settle for the way he had done things. He was effectively on his third try, having all the knowledge and experience from his first two attempts. He wouldn't settle for just coming back to life. He would be using new ideas, people, and routes to secure his position. Not only would she have to find out what else he had done to himself she would also have to be on the lookout for Voldemort using different tactics and ways of thinking she had never seen.

Feeling like she would need an eternity of studying and research before she would be anywhere near ready for her mission, she couldn't help but lunge across the table to give her best friend a hug. His sputtering and bemused expression only made her hug him more fiercely. "Ah, Hermione? Are you okay?"

His awkward pats to her back sent her over the edge into watery laughter, "Fine, Harry. Just fine. I think I've been missing too much sleep recently. I should probably go and let you rest before you have to be back in at the office." Reluctantly, she released him and slid back into her chair.

"Hermione, I've known you for forever and I know when something's not alright and something is not alright. What is it?" Allowing her hand to be caught in his, she could feel her willpower fail her.

"What… what would you do if it was Voldemort that was back?" Not daring to look him in the eye, she waited.

"Fuck. I don't… Merlin Hermione, I have no idea. You're gonna give me nightmares!" Dropping her hand, Harry leaned back and looked at her as if he had never properly seen her before.

"I mean, don't you worry, sometimes? That he'll come back?" Anxiously rubbing her hands together, she still couldn't bring herself to look at him directly.

"Yah, of course I do. It scares the shit out of me. I've got a family now and if he came back I would be terrified. I couldn't just run off to the forest, I'd have to protect my family. It keeps me up, sometimes. Gin is great at talking me down though. Hermione, did you... you know. Ever deal with it? Did you talk to someone about it?" His honest concern forced her eyes up to meet his.

Giving a hoarse bark of laughter she mulled over the question, "I dealt with it as well as can be expected. I mean, it was hard, really hard at first. But, it all got easier over time. I don't dream about it much anymore and work is good. Keeps me busy. I just wonder, sometimes. What would happen if he did come back? Would we win?"

"We did what we did so we would never have to answer that question Hermione; we ended it once and for all. We took care of the Elder Wand and the Resurrection stone. There's no way he could come back. We still have loonies out there that believe him but they get to be less and less every day. We made the world safe for the next generation. They don't have to grow up in fear like we did. They won't have to fight in a war that started before they were born. We did that Hermione, we did it. Knowing that helps me get through those nights." Fearing that her voice would break, she nodded dumbly.

"Hermione, I think you're stretching yourself too thin. What's going on?" Feeling suffocated, she began the process of occluding her mind. Locking up the thoughts that screamed out he was back and it shouldn't be. Clamping down on the sadness before it could creep into her voice. Harry was already worried enough. He would be sure to check in on her and she couldn't afford that. The hours were burning away, turning to ash in her hands.

"You're right, Harry. I really haven't been sleeping. I'm going to go and catch a nap. it'll do me a world of good." Hoping beyond hope he would leave it be, she stood up, draining the last of her tea.

"Alright, alright. Keep your secrets but if you need help we're always here for you." Collecting his friend into his arms, he gave her a long hug. Walking her to the floo, he watched his friend disappear.

* * *

Striding out of the fireplace and to her kitchen table she was determined that what Harry said would be true. By hook or by crook, the next generation would not have to fight in the war that had taken her childhood. Even if it took her losing everything she had ever known she would make Voldemort suffer and finally, finally, die. Shoving her journals aside, she opened up her books on divination and began formulating the prophecy that would spare the late Potters and by extension the young family she had just visited.

* * *

This chapter was not my friend. But, at least we're getting closer to time-travel! Also, more info on Voldemort! Duhn dun DUN! On another note, I got a few questions on why I'm making Hermione Indian, which is a very valid question. Here's why: I wanted to make it something she would have to work at, I've read a lot of fics where she just changes her name and calls it a day which seems a little flimsy to me. I think she needs a more drastic change in identity so when Mini!Hermione comes along, people won't start asking questions. I also lived in India for three months so I'm a bit biased. Updated Sep. 30, 2013


	5. Chapter 5

_October 31, 1981 The war is over but Dumbledore believes the Dark Lord will come back. He has asked me to take up teaching, to keep a vigil in case I ever need to resume my place with the Dark Lord and spy for the Order again. I can not say with any certainty which prospect is more horrifying. Teaching dunderheaded children how not to blow themselves up or the Dark Lord coming back. If the children do not kill me before it happens I will be surprised. It will be good to be around innocence again. It seems fitting I would come back to the place that has been more of a home to me than Spinner's End ever was. I feel like this could be beneficial, while I am not teaching classes I will have time to research. To brew for pleasure again. Unlike these years of darkness. Serving two masters and being a part of a war has left me oddly reflective. I do not think I could have done it without this journal. A constant companion in my times of turmoil. Reflecting back on it now, it seems the most foolhardy thing I have ever done. Putting all my thoughts down can only serve as a risk. Something I learned well when the Marauders got a hold of my potion textbook and used its contents against me. And yet, I have permitted myself this one weakness. But, no longer. This will be my last entry. My last chance to give shape to these thoughts in my head. Goodbye, friend._

Closing the last ledger, she couldn't help but give the cover a soft pat. Through reading Snape's journals, she had learned much. It was as if he were writing to her, as if he had called out for someone to understand him. To be in his corner with no judgment, to simply listen, and know what he had done. She agreed with him though, writing down everything as well as his thoughts was so fool-hardy she had scarce believed he would do it at first. And now, she had her answer. The Severus Snape she knew would never consider giving written evidence. The Severus Snape that was a scant 20 years old at the time would crave some outlet. His falling out with Lily and disillusionment with the Death Eaters had left him bereft of friends. The Order hardly tolerated him in the second war, surely the first war had been worse as their belief he had changed sides would be fresh and questionable, especially since he had asked Dumbledore not to tell anyone why he did so. It seemed Severus Snape had a softer side in his youth, one she would have to exploit mercilessly to get him to change sides.

Rubbing circles into her temples, she contemplated what mumbo-jumbo she would have to spew to convince Snape that his Death Eater friends were but wolves in sheep's clothing and he was the sheep. It would have to wait until she figured out what her first prophecy would be. It needed to implicate Peter while also giving something for Snape to report back to Voldemort who wouldn't expect the jig was up with his pet Marauder.

Grabbing a pen and a notepad, she began. Jotting down non-sense was harder than she had originally supposed it to be; perhaps Trelawney should get a raise. Rolling her eyes at her own antics, she began to write.

_A foundation shaken twixt four friends… _Scratching out the line after reading it over as it seemed more like an Elizabethan play than a prophecy, she started again. _Wolf, stag, dog, and rat…. The tricksters must be made to understand. Darkness grows to settle score without count and without recognition…. The neglected one shall carve flesh and tear apart family if trusted with The Secret. To the snake the rat will go, back and forth between house and field the rat must travel… to feed the snake sweet things. The snake is watching._

Finishing with a flourish, she looked over it again. While it was crude, it would certainly do the job, at least as far as she was concerned. It would entice Voldemort with the idea there was a secret while also alerting Dumbledore that Peter was a rat in more than one way. By including that he would be going from house to field she would let them know he had to continue to be involved in the Order. Turning to her next prophetic problem, she took out a new piece of paper and began.

_A fair flower has left her protector's garden. _Scratching it out for being too trite, she began again. _The half-blood prince in blood shall end… if the flower perishes so too shall he. Those of cloak and dagger will trample under foot all that the Prince cares for. His kingdom in ruin if unheard goes the warning. Unite with the tricksters lest he himself be tricked… _Gazing thoughtfully at what she had written, she empathetically crossed out "his kingdom in ruin". _A spy must he be. Two masters shall preside over him, but for his trials the maiden shall be his. _Wincing at her subterfuge, she left that he would get Lily for his troubles. It was the one undercurrent that had gone throughout his life, his devotion to Lily and asking him to spy without offering him her love would get her nowhere. She could only hope it worked out for the best.

Looking over her work, she deemed it acceptable. Taking out a new piece of paper she wrote out the finalized version. _The half-blood prince in blood shall end… if the flower perishes so too shall he. Those of cloak and dagger will trample under foot all that the Prince cares for if unheard goes the warning. Unite with the tricksters lest he himself be tricked… A spy must he be… Two masters shall preside over him, but for his trials the maiden shall be his._ Feeling the press of the hour upon her, she tucked the 'prophecies' in her bag.

It was the day to meet Madame Pomfrey which left her a scarce three days before she went back. She had packed her bag to the brim with anything and everything she could think of needing. She had sent away for clothing in styles from the early 1980s. She had settled for a nice mix between Indian clothing and British muggle clothing she was pleased with the results. The shirts were loose fitting and with the lightweight material even going back in the summer would allow her to wear long sleeves. The mudblood scar that marred her forearm had been craved with a cursed blade, making it impossible to cover it up by magical means. So, long sleeved shirts would have to be worn at all times or her cover would be blown to shreds.

She had taken Dumbledore's advice and purchased an unholy amount of deeply dark brown hair dye. Something that had the company respond to her order asking if she had meant to get the amount she did. The immense amount of owls it had taken to deliver the crates had cleaned her out of every owl treat in her house. Ordering food for Crookshanks had been quite the ordeal as well, the familiar had taken it upon himself to check the quality of the goods by chewing through some of the treat bags. She had found him after his fifth bag. The way he had waddled out of the room in shame had softened her ire marginally but she had cut back on his treats for days which left him in a nasty mood.

Her satchel had become her beaded purse, something that made her appreciate all the charms she had learned to further build on what she had done in the war. Her bag had become the equivalent of carrying her house about town with her. Her library had been carefully packed away inside, a feat in and of itself. The note that McGonagall had sent had been sparse but telling. She was to have everything she needed for the journey with her when she reported to Madame Pomfrey. Getting Crookshanks in his cat carrier took the better part of an hour to accomplish, he had aged but whenever the carrier was in sight he seemed to have the energy and temperament of a feral alley cat.

"This is it, Crooks. We're going back to Hogwarts, lots of mice for you to catch." A low rumble came from the crate. Her familiar was not so keen to look on the bright side of things, it seemed. Giving her flat one last look, she gathered up her satchel and carrier, threw the floo powder in the fireplace, and reappeared in the Headmistress' office at promptly three o'clock.

"Perfectly punctual." Minerva stepped forward, smiling at the younger woman. "Here, let me get that for you." Reaching out to pluck the cat carrier from her arms, the Headmistress narrowed her eyes at the hissing half-Kneazle.

"He really hates the carrier, always has." Hermione offered, digging through her bag for the prophecies she had written. "As requested, the two you asked to see before I went."

"Just set them on my desk. I'm under strict orders to get you to the infirmary as soon as possible. Poppy was insistent the more time you have to recover the better off you'll be." If Minerva noticed Hermione's gulp of fear she made no comment, instead releasing the hissing cat and placing the empty carrier on her desk as well.

"Well, best to get on with it, I suppose." Giving the older woman a brave smile, she glanced to see if Dumbledore was in his portrait.

Seeing her gaze Minerva answered for his absence, "The old codger left a few minutes ago. He seems to be of the opinion you'll blast him straight off the wall."

"What? I would never!" Intrigued by the portrait's unusual behavior, she resolved to ask him about it when she saw him next.

"Be that as it may, we really must get going." Gesturing to the door, the Headmistress followed her down the stairs and walked next to her along the empty corridors. They got to the infirmary much sooner than Hermione would have preferred. Her thoughts were running away from her, speculating what exactly would be done to her if she needed as much time to recover as possible.

"Welcome back, Ms. Granger." Madame Pomfrey greeted her, her voice even and warm soothing some of Hermione's frazzled nerves.

"It's good to see you, Madame Pomfrey. Though I wish it was under better circumstances." The nurse nodded in acknowledgement. The woman had never been one for idle words Hermione recalled from her many extended visits to the hospital wing.

"Well, I will leave you to get underway but I will be back to check on you as well as to update you on preparations." Giving Hermione a small hug, Minerva turned and swept away.

"We will get started immediately, what Albus was thinking giving you so short a time to recover is beyond me, mustn't waste a moment." Guiding the younger woman to a curtained off bed, she instructed her to change into the hospital gown that had been left out.

"Madame Pomfrey, what exactly will we be doing to my appearance?" she inquired, feeling silly that she was so out of the loop.

"He didn't tell you that?" Emerging from behind the curtain, she was rewarded with the sight of very pursed lips. "Albus will be hearing from me. Now, as to what we'll be changing. Do you recall when your teeth were enlarged?" Seeing her nod of ascent, she continued on, "Well, we will be doing something similar to your facial structure. You're cheekbones will be more prominent and your nose won't turn up at the end, it'll be more of a straight shot. Aside from that, we'll be making your hair thicker."

Resisting the urge to grab at her face in an attempt to memorize every detail she could, she took a calming breathe instead, "Madame Pomfrey, why do people use polyjuice potion if these procedures are available?"

"Polyjuice potion allows the person to morph their physicality in ways the normal body can't sustain. A petite female can become a large male, something that strains the internal organs as it tries to adjust to the different metabolic requirements. While occasional use does not have adverse effects, it was never designed for long term use. Any attempt to make the body deviate from its norm is extremely dangerous. What we are doing is pushing at the border of that limit. We are permanently changing your body but to the point it won't throw you into shock. We could not make you more than an inch or two taller because your body simply wouldn't have the store of energy to make your bones strong enough. Our alterations will put you out of commission for the next few days but you aren't in danger of having a broken nose if someone were to flick it."

Making a small noise of understanding, Hermione quickly sat on the bed at the nurse's direction and accepted the potions offered to her.

"It's dreamless sleep, after you take that you need to down the second potion quickly." In Hermione's experience it was always good to take potions quickly; they often tasted foul and had a texture that left much to be desired.

Gagging at the taste of the second potion, she didn't have long to contemplate how something could taste like chalk and bog mud before she was asleep.

* * *

Blearily opening her eyes, Hermione felt like she had been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. Trying to move her face at all left her with the conclusion she had been hit with two, at a minimum. Her head felt like it was throbbing in time with her heartbeat and her scalp felt like every hair had been plucked out one by one. Looking around she took in the darkness of the room, by her guess it would be well into the wee hours of the morning.

As if drawn to her waking thoughts, Madame Pomfrey pushed past the privacy curtains with a container and spoon in hand. "This is for the pain. After you get this down I can give you some more dreamless sleep." The nurse seemed unbothered that her patient said nothing in response. Dolling out two large spoonful's that slid down Hermione's throat like molasses she immediately began pouring the dreamless sleep into her mouth in intervals. The nurse took the time to massage her throat to help the potion along. Hermione's last thought before she slipped back into sleep was that Dumbledore was lucky he already had a head start in running from her.

* * *

The next time she woke up, light was streaming in. Moving her face experimentally, she was startled when a shooting pain seemed to race from her jaw, to her toes, and back again.

"Poppy has told me it would be best for you not to move much." Minerva offered, seemingly from nowhere. Turning her head slightly to the left, she could see the Headmistress perched on the bedside chair.

"I've come to discuss your task. I'm afraid it will make for something of a boring conversation but I imagine it will at least offer you something of a diversion. I have looked over your prophecies and see only one thing I would like to change. You wrote that 'the maiden will be his' but I would like to ask that it would be 'love will be his'. Severus Snape was lied to many, many times in life and I would like to hope that in the new course of things that he could have a bit more honesty."

The fact that she would be lying to him about her history, nationality, and divination abilities seemed to put the balance at even more lies being told to him. But, seeing that Minerva looked shamefaced stopped her from quirking her eyebrows in polite rebuttal.

"I know he loved Lily, more than anything. But, I hope in time he will realize that she can not and will not return his affections that way. I want him to look for love elsewhere. I know that a prophecy can hardly be expected to change his heart, but perhaps it could help. I understand if you decide to keep the original version, his love for Lily would be easy to manipulate. Just consider this for me, please. I will come back tomorrow to speak with you more. Poppy assures me you will be up to having some conversation then." The older woman gave her hand a gentle squeeze before leaving.

Poppy swept in directly after, McGonagall having informed her that her patient was very much awake and in pain. After another round of a pain potion and dreamless sleep, she was out.

* * *

"Here's a bowl of broth. I expect it to be gone by the time I return." Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Hermione roused to the sound of Madame Pomfrey's crisp command. Feeling herself hoisted up into a sitting position she tried to take in her surroundings.

Light was again pouring in to the hospital wing as a tray was placed over her lap and a heavenly smelling broth sat on top. "Thank you." Even saying a few words felt miserable. Taking a tentative sip of the liquid her body waged war against itself. Her stomach demanded she slurp the concoction down as fast as possible and her jaw refused to open more than an inch without effort. Feeling rather pathetic, she continued to eat. Contemplating all the ways to destroy a portrait served to cheer her up though.

She finished the both just in time as the nurse swept back the curtains, flicked her wand to vanish the bowl and tray, and placed proper pajamas on the bed. "Now that you're not in as much pain you've graduated to something more substantial. The Headmistress and Dumbledore should be here in 15 minutes. I don't know how in the world you expect to be going tomorrow but I don't advise it." Turning quickly on her heel, the woman closed the curtain, and walked away.

Patting a hand on her head she winced at the sorry state it was in before she realized it felt completely different. Taking a lock between her fingers and bringing it before her she could see her ringlets were no more. In their place were heavy waves and thick strands. Taking stock of her hair, she was pleased to note it hadn't fallen out in patches as she'd imagined when Poppy had told her what was to be done. Instead, she had a full head of very mussed hair.

Continuing her perusal, she felt along the sides of her face, feeling more of a dip between her jaw and cheekbone. Running her fingers up and down the edge of her nose she could feel that Madame Pomfrey had been true to her word. There was no slight upturn at the end. Instead, it followed in a straight line. It felt slightly larger around the fullest part of her nose as well. Hermione was not by nature a vein person but she had grown to like how she looked, she didn't think of herself as beautiful but she had been content having no complaints. Now, she would have a new face with a new life to match.

Rousing herself enough to change took some effort. It was well worth it though after she cast a cleaning charm on herself combined with the feeling of fresh clothes. Her only remaining wish was a toothbrush piled high with toothpaste. Attempting to get her new hair in some semblance of order she was frustrated to find it slid out of her hair band. Resolving to learn how to tame the new beast on her head she opened the curtains to her bed to show she was ready for visitors.

Settling back on to the bed she was soon greeted by the portrait of a very contrite looking Dumbledore, "You look lovely, it really suits you." The portrait seated himself on a bench in a field of poppies directly across from her bed.

"Thank you, professor. The next time you wish someone to have their appearance altered I should hope you'll tell them what exactly will be done and how they can expect to feel afterwords." Using the tone of voice that made Harry and Ron collectively seek cover seemed to get her point across. The former Headmaster coughed into his hand and shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes. I will endeavor to keep that in mind. Minerva! How good it is to see you!" The abrupt change in conversation was not lost on Hermione. Knowing that her lectures would be wasted on a painting, she settled for knowing she could give a younger Albus a lesson in communicating important information and what happened when one neglected key details.

"I see you're still intact Albus, Hermione must not be feeling well." Sharing a smile with the other woman in the room, McGonagall took her place next to Hermione's bed. "Will you be well enough to leave tomorrow, Hermione?"

"Yes, I believe so. I'll have to lie low for a few days but that shouldn't be a problem. I have to contact Albus for the position, secure a room in the Hog's Head, and contact Snape but that's over the course of a week." She confirmed as she messaged her aching jaw.

"That is very good to hear, you will depart in the morning. No sense in not getting the ball rolling. Have you given her the money, Minerva?" The Headmistress withdrew a pouch that clinked as Hermione accepted it. "It goes without saying the less you spend the better off you will be. Starting out your journey with a financial review would undoubtedly lead to some delicate questions being asked." Chuckling at his own joke, Dumbledore regarded the young woman. Even though her appearance had changed, her striking eyes still showed through. It would be enough to keep anyone from suspecting she and the young Hermione Granger were the same person but not such a startling change that Hermione wouldn't recognize herself.

"Minerva was kind enough to read your prophecies to me and I must say I think they will work perfectly. I would stress delivering the first to me roughly twenty minutes into the interview, I was in a bind for time and I won't give you my full attention until you deliver the prophecy but it must come about organically. As for Severus, I would suggest saying you had visions that brought you to him. He will try to take his leave of you as quickly as possible so you should do so after only a minute or two. Hopefully, he'll be persuaded enough to hear you out. If he doesn't, you will have to continue to 'bump' into him. With what you know from the ledgers, you will have a better idea than anyone where he will be on any given day. Does this sound agreeable to you?" The painting asked.

Nodding her head, Hermione hoped they would accept it instead of making her talk more. While she was feeling much better than the day before even the short amount she had already said had left her feeling drained and achy.

"Very good, Miss Granger. As for the Horcruxes, you will have to eliminate them. You know where they were hidden and Voldemort will have made only five at the time. Before you leave, you will be given the sword of Gryffindor. This will help to keep you from needing to raise suspicion by acquiring basilisk venom or finding other means to destroy them. The ring was under the floorboards in the Gaunt shack. Speaking from experience, do not hesitate in destroying it. I would also encourage following Harry's example in finding a place to dispose of the Hallow." Nodding her head, she gave a comforting smile to the portrait who slouched in his chair as he recounted the advice he wished he had followed.

"You will have to throw Dumbledore off his suspicion that Horcruxes are the cause of Voldemort's longevity. By delivering prophecies you should be able to point him in the right direction. You will need to become a part of the Order as well, something that was never offered to Trelawney. Ask directly. It will take some time to gain enough trust to be let in but it will start the process of your mettle being tested as a potential member." McGonagall took up the lecture without hesitation. Their friendship had continued on into the afterlife, Minerva acutely attuned to her predecessor's shifts in mood, especially when the Hallows were mentioned.

Sighing wistfully, Hermione contemplated that there never seemed to be enough time. Going back to figure out what Voldemort had done to himself was a large task in and of itself. Adding in destroying the Horcruxes as well as being a full time teacher would leave her with little time to devote to so many important things. Squaring her shoulders as she had often done as a child when tests were fast approaching, she resolved to get it done. She would see out this mission and make for a better future. Harry would grow up with parents and her boys would have a childhood without the threat of danger following them at every turn. If that meant a little less sleep for her, it was well worth it.

"I believe we have prepared you as best we can. Do you have any questions?" Hearing Hermione's small no, she continued. "In that case, I will leave you to rest. Poppy has been very upset with me for interrupting your healing and I think if I impose on her goodwill any longer I'll find myself coming down with something nasty." I will send a house elf with your breakfast tomorrow at seven. We'll aim to have you off by nine. Goodnight, Hermione." Patting the younger woman's shoulder lightly, she got up and walked away. It was not wasted on Hermione that the Headmaster was still in his frame across from her bed.

"Miss Granger, I want to thank you." Holding up his hand to forestall any rebuttal the Headmaster stood. "I have asked a great deal of you over the years and I will ask much more of you, I'm sure. I hope you will put me in my place for doing so but I have one last request of you, before you go. Will you tell me what I most need to hear? It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, should do nicely. I do not want you to tell myself that the Hallows are no more. I would instead like for someone to remind me of what is and leave it up to myself to rise to the occasion. I certainly hope I can be who I always wanted to be, free. Free from the quest that destroyed me in life." She too stood, feeling the solemn nature of the moment.

"I will." Feeling no more needed to be said, she seated herself. It seemed odd to think of the Headmaster as a man that regretting things. While she had known him in life he had always seemed so certain. In death, she had learned his history. And now, it seemed the living Dumbledore would need a few good shakes to his confidence.

"Thank you, I am grateful. I will leave you in Poppy's care. Minerva is not the only one in danger of her wrath!" Giving a small tip of his head, he walked out of the painting. Feeling her bed dip, Hermione turned her attention to the large ginger cat that strode over to her. Feeling the rumble of his purr as she scratched him behind the ear helped to soothe her nerves. Gathering him up into her arms, she settled into her bed and was asleep before Madame Pomfrey could attend her patient.

* * *

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes to the sound of a high pitched voice, Hermione blearily tried to spot the speaker, "Miss Hermy must be getting up now! Miss Hermy!" Feeling something pod her arm she tried to roll away but was thwarted by the half-kneazle that boxed her in.

"Hmm?" Murmuring drowsily, she sat up.

"Your breakfast is here and you be eating all of it. Madame told Binky so!" the house elf said imperiously, levitating the tray up and over the woman's legs with a look that promised swift punishment if her orders were not followed.

Taking stock of her meal, she was pleased to see all the food was soft and would be easy to get down. "Coffee?" She asked, feeling like tea simply would not be enough today.

"You gets tea." The elf answered, looking offended that her charge had thought to question what she was being served. Muttering under her breath about those that didn't understand the necessity of coffee she started in on the scrambled eggs.

The owlish eyes of Binky followed her every move making Hermione feel like a specimen on display. "This is very good." She offered, diplomatically. Not getting any response from the diminutive elf she continued on her meal as her stomach roared to life at not being fed in days. Polishing off the toast and eggs, she took long swings of her tea. Not only did she have to get up the Headmistress' office, she had to shower and check to make sure she had everything ready for her journey.

The elf looked approvingly on the empty tray before popping away. Collecting a hair dye kit, a set of clothing, and shower necessities, she made her way to the hospital wing bathroom. Reading the instructions quickly, she mixed the chemicals and slathered the concoction on her new hair. Casting a tempus charm, she settled down to wait the half hour until she could wash it out. Washing her greasy hair and brushing her teeth left her feeling more human and decidedly better smelling. Not giving her reflection more than a passing glance, plenty of time later to ponder what exactly had been done, she threw on her clothing and stumbled back into the hospital wing. Collecting her satchel she placed the bag of money inside and scooped up her cat.

"Miss Granger, I hope you did not think you could get away without my clearance." The medi-witch called out from her office, sounding more like she was talking to a child than a twenty six year old woman. Shuffling towards the office, Hermione cursed her luck.

"Of course not Madame Pomfrey." The nurse emerged and gestured for her charge to sit. Waving her wand while making small sounds of approval the nurse cast a critical eye on the young woman. It seemed she was healing well enough though she would have preferred to keep her under observation for another few days she knew when she was beat.

"You will keep your talking to a minimum for the next week. Should you have any sharp or stinging pain you should consult a medical professional straightaway. No more dreamless sleep potion, you're past the critical stage. I hope the next time around you won't be as frequent a visitor to the hospital wing." Seeing the nurse smile at her in jest gave Hermione a swell of fondness for the woman that had patched her up so often in her school days. Catching the surprised nurse in a one armed hug, her other holding firmly onto Crookshanks, Hermione tried to convey her gratitude.

"Thank you so much for everything Madame Pomfrey. I'll do my best to stay out of trouble." Letting the nurse go, Hermione readjusted Crookshanks who had cottoned on to the fact he was most likely going in the crate and was struggling to get out of her hold like his life depended on it. Making her way to the Headmistress' office with a cat that was actively trying to flee proved to be a challenge. After he had managed to kick her bag off her shoulder she had regulated him to being held in a tight embrace that had him mewling piteously.

Opening the door to the office, Hermione was pleased to see she had made it just one time even with her familiar doing his best to derail her. "I see your cat is as happy as ever for his upcoming journey." Minerva chuckled seeing Crookshanks' head swivel to try and find a way out.

"Yes, he's a handful, could you open the crate?" Maneuvering the cat into the cat carrier took some time as he got his claws into the plastic and refused to be unhooked.

"Goodness, you would think he was going to his death!" Minerva exclaimed, rubbing where a thin red line could be seen from when Crookshanks had seized upon her hand to try and pry himself out.

"He acts like it's the worst thing in the world but as soon as he's in it he's perfectly fine." Hermione grumbled, giving her pet a disgruntled look.

"Well, now that that is done, here is the sword." McGonagall gave her the blade that was wrapped in many layers of a thick fabric. Accepting the sword, Hermione placed it into her bag reverently.

"It seems you are ready for your journey, Miss Granger." Dumbledore piped up, giving the witch an appraising eye. "Your new hair color suits you."

"Why thank you, Headmaster." She smiled politely. She personally thought it was a mess. It had been her first time doing anything of the sort and she had missed spots as well as getting it on her neck and ears. As soon as she settled into her room at the Hogs Head she would have to re-do it in an attempt to salvage it.

"You have everything you need?" Minerva checked, holding the prophecies out for the younger woman to grab.

"Yes, everything that I could think of and then some." She confirmed, placing the sheets of paper into her bag as well. "I want to thank you both for everything you've done for me. I will do my best to complete this and see that we all have a brighter future." Giving the two a watery smile, Hermione launched herself into a last hug with the woman who had helped her along for so many years.

"I am, and always will be, very proud of you Hermione." Minerva returned with a tearful look of her own.

"Hermione, you are the brightest witch Hogwarts has seen along with a heart to match. I have every confidence in you." Dumbledore spoke, looking down upon the scene with pride.

"Well, I suppose I should begin." Straightening up, Hermione pulled herself together. In all reality, she would see them soon. Collecting the time turner, she set the date and time slowly as the world began to spin around her. The warm tones of the Headmistress' office blurred to an all-encompassing black.

It seemed to take minutes for the world to materialize in front of her. When it did, she moved quickly. Being in Albus Dumbledore's study at three am in the middle of a war did not lend itself to one's safety. The time turner collapsed in on itself, disintegrating to a fine sand that slipped through her fingers. Banishing the remains of her time turner from the rug, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped through to the Hogs Head. Only the phoenix perched on his stand witness to the time traveler's sudden appearance. Giving a small coo in remark, the phoenix settled back to sleep.

* * *

It took me longer than expected to finish this chapter but on the up and up it's two thousand words longer than the standard! :D We have finally gotten to the time travel, there was much rejoicing! I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, follow, and favorite. Ya'll make my day.

On another note, I'm still getting some questions on Hermione being Indian. She's navigating a lot of cultural change. She's going back in time twenty five years, for one. As much as we like to think that one would be able to fit in easy since it's just back in time but the same country, it wouldn't. She's not going to get a lot of the references people make. She's not going to be able to employ the slang correctly all the time. She's going to be an odd duck, no matter what she does. Being a foreigner will help her to play off these issues. When I went to India, I told a group of locals I loved coffee. They corrected me that I liked coffee. I again told them I love coffee. I was, unknowingly, saying I romantically loved coffee in Hindi (it's pretty close to romantic love though). But, they passed off my lack of knowledge as being American. Hermione is situated halfway between, having a strong British heritage while also being Indian. She can reasonably claim to be unaware of things. Also, she's a seer and they're an odd sort anyway. I really appreciate all thoughts and feedback so let me know in a few chapters if it still seems like it's not working but I would ask for a chance to show you that it can work first.

Thanks everyone!

Updated Sep. 30, 2013


	6. Chapter 6

Stepping out of the fireplace in the Hog's Head at three am caused the few people in the bar to swivel to catch a glance of the new comer. The Hog's Head was open at all hours and served alcohol generously, something that was not wasted upon her as she walked past two men who seemed to be having a hard time keeping their heads up. Marching over to Aberforth who was tending the bar, she set her cat carrier down and began to fish around in her bag for her money.

"I'm in need of a room for a week." withdrawing the small pouch, she began to count out galleons.

Aberforth paused a moment to take in the sight of the woman before him. She looked underfed and ill but determined. Being a bar tender meant seizing up your customers and he couldn't help but feel she had something eerie about her. The ways she had looked at him seemed to speak of familiarity but he had never seen the woman before in his life. Taking a moment to scrutinize her further he noted her high cheek bones that seemed to draw attention to her brown eyes that were narrowed, calculating how much she would need. Her hair fell in soft, thick waves that she swatted back as it fell forward into her line of vision. Her clothing looked foreign. A long top and long sleeves decorated with intricate embroidery helped to draw attention to the way she grit her teeth like she was in some pain. Not sensing any outright danger, he resolved to watch her. With Voldemort on the loose it would be prudent to figure out whether she could be a threat or not.

"Fifty galleons." Raising an eyebrow at the way she smiled up at him before handing over the set amount of money he could not shake the feeling that the stranger was far too comfortable around him. Reaching back to take a key from where it hung, he placed it in her waiting hand. "Second floor, third room on the left." Her nod of understanding had him thoughtfully cleaning a glass with a dirty rag as she made her way up the stairs and out of sight. Yes, it would be best to watch her and find out what business brought her to his establishment for such a long time.

Turning the corner and away from prying eyes, Hermione stopped holding her breathe. Seeing Aberforth look so young had been shocking. When she had met him, he had been hardened by two wars and the death of everyone in his family. While his personality certainly seemed just as gruff now as it had been then, his face was more expressive. The way he had looked at her like he was not quite sure what she was had sent warning bells off in her mind. It was the middle of a war and she was smiling willy-nilly at, for all intents and purposes, random strangers certainly wouldn't be done. Pushing the key in the lock, she stepped into her room. Closing the door behind her, she let Crooks out who immediately leapt up onto the bed, surveying his new kingdom.

Chuckling at her pet's antics, she set about casting her protection charms on the room. While she hadn't seen any Death Eaters she knew in the bar, that didn't mean that there wasn't one there and they wouldn't be intrigued by the appearance of a foreign witch. Getting out her writing utensils, she got to work writing her letter to Dumbledore that she would mail the next day.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_I have seen you are seeking a Divination professor for the 1980/1981 school year. I would like to formally submit my interest in the job. I am currently residing in the Hog's Head and will be here for the next week. I would be amendable meeting here or at Hogwarts, whichever fits the best with your schedule. Included is a list of my qualifications. _

_Sincerely,_

_Maya Dunn_

Nodding her head in satisfaction, she set the letter aside for the ink to dry. Reaching once more into her bag, she collected some spare clothing and a bottle of hair dye. It was time to fix her hair before she went strolling out in Diagon Alley in the day where the spots of chestnut would be easily seen in the sea of dark brown. Changing, she began to apply the dye careful to avoid getting it on her skin. Taking stock of her bathroom she concluded it would be best to clean it before she even attempted to use it. Half expecting doxies to attack her she began casting every cleaning charm she knew until the worn down bathroom look like it had been subjected to hours of a Molly Weasley cleaning Hermione was pleased with her work. She had always been something of a neat freak and going into the past and staying at a seedy establishment would not keep her from having her living area the way she liked it.

Washing the dye out of her hair, she was pleased to note there were no more tell-tale chestnut clumps and she would be believed as having naturally dark hair. Settling into her bed for a nap, she could feel Crookshanks snuggle up to her back. Smiling, she let herself drift off.

* * *

Waking to the sun streaming into her room, she took a moment to savor the feeling of calm before heaving herself up. Careful not to disturb the half-kneazle who was known to sit on her face after being interrupted from his sleep, she slid out of bed. Casting a quick tempus charm, she was pleased to see it was only eight am. Hearing the low rumble come from her stomach, she opted to skip a shower and instead tied up her hair in a messy bun and threw on some clothes. Opting for another kameez over jeans, she threw on a matching scarf. Remembering the dramatic clothing Trelawney had worn, Hermione had decided to keep a bit of an air of mystery around her clothing as well. A scarf would serve to bring about the image of mystics if dramatically draped over her shoulders. Feeling satisfied with her choice of apparel, she scooped up her letter and packed it away. The rumbling of her stomach letting her know in no uncertain terms that breakfast was a priority.

"I'll be back later, Crooks. Be a good boy." Chuckling at the affronted look her cat gave her, Hermione exited her room careful to lock up. Making her way past the bartender who was watching her like a hawk, she made her way to the Leaky Cauldron which had a wonderful breakfast as she recalled. The atmosphere of war hung heavy in the air as people scuttled from place to place, carefully not to linger too long. Spotting a young Rookwood strolling towards Flourish and Blotts, Hermione was careful not to look alarmed. Rookwood was a spy in the Department of Mysteries in the first war, something that as a fellow Department of Mysteries worker rankled her. Making a mental note to find out what room he worked in and if he could have anything to do with Voldemort's additional means of immortality she resolved to deliver a damning prophecy on him shortly after being imitated into the Order.

Entering the Leaky Cauldron, she was happy to see that it was early yet and few people were there. Grabbing a table towards the back where she would be better able to see who was coming and going she greeted Tom as he made his way over, menu in hand.

"Good morning and thank you." Accepting the menu from him, she was pleased to see that while he did not look as carefree as he did while she had been in school he didn't seem terrified as he had been in the midst of the second war.

"Tea would be wonderful." Reminding herself not to smile too much, she opted to read through the menu instead.

"I'll be right back with it and to take your order." She settled on a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, baked beans, and a fried tomato. While in Hogwarts she would ask the house elves to serve her mostly Indian cuisine, the occasional British fare could be explained away as her dad's favorites. Taking her time to assess who else was in the room with her, she settled on a family of four that looked to be out for a day of shopping with their young children.

Seeing the little boy try to fit everything in his mouth at once and his little sister's scandalized reaction had her smiling with suppressed laughter. It seemed like something she and Ron would do. Contrary to what many thought, Ron was not often remiss in his table manners. But, when he was particularly hungry he was known to slip up rather fantastically. Something she had always been quick to point out to him. Averting her attention before the family realized they were being watched, she continued her scan. An older couple sat not far from her, immersed in the Daily Prophet. Ignoring the headline of _Four killed in Surrey _she moved on. A man sat, his back to her, as he drank some tea and read the paper as well.

Feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her, she mentally thought back to the ledgers. Yes, today would be the day that one Severus Snape would be out and about the town to collect potion ingredients. Cursing her luck, she weighed her options. She could leave him alone. Just eat her meal and watch as he walked out the door. However, he made no mention of going out in his journal for another few weeks. Well, of going anywhere besides Malfoy Manor and Death Eater revels.

"Miss? What'll you have?" Snapping back to reality, Hermione flashed Tom a quick smile.

"Ah, yes. I'll have the full breakfast." Handing back the menu, Hermione waited until Tom had left before turning her attention back to Snape. Yes, it would have to be now. Gathering up her courage she stood with her tea before she could reason her way out of it. Striding over to the man whom she would desperately need to turn to the Order's side, she spoke up.

"Is this seat taken?" Trying to make her voice sound deep and mysterious was harder than it sounded, Hermione thought.

"Yes." His response was instantaneous and filled with the biting tone she remembered.

Setting down her tea cup, she opted to pull out the chair anyway, "you have an aura about you." Hoping that he didn't feel like eviscerating her with witnesses present, she waited for him to look at her.

"If you want to turn tricks, Knockturn alley is not far and perhaps someone would be stupid enough to let you spread your legs for them." He sneered, still not looking up from his paper. Narrowing her eyes, she fought back a biting retort. Calling her a know-it-all was one thing but a harlot was quite another.

"That is not my trade." She settled on, hoping a diplomatic response would keep him from lashing out again. "I am a Seer." His snort of derision told her in no uncertain terms that it hadn't worked.

"A pity, at least a prostitute would know when she was not wanted." Sitting down in the seat did draw his attention as he folded up his newspaper and looked at her like she was the most repulsive thing he had ever seen. Ignoring the urge to contemplate how much younger he looked, she plowed on.

"You have an air about you. A touch of destiny, if you will." She felt like a loon. Talking about destiny with Severus Snape while he narrowed his eyes in loathing was the craziest thing she had done in a long time. "Please, test me. Ask me something only you would know. If I am wrong I won't bother you again." Leaning back, she waited for him to take the bait. It was a gamble but the best chance she had to get him to believe she was an actual Seer. She would just have to hope that between what she had learned about him in her school years and the ledgers would give her the answer to his question.

He considered her. Sliding his eyes up and down her face before his gaze landed on hers. She felt the subtle push of Legilimency against her mental barriers. Allowing her defenses down around her thoughts on their meeting and how important she thought he was, she waited. It did not take him long to try and push past, something that had her slamming down her mental barriers and booting him out.

"I allowed you to see my intentions; I did not give you permission to root around in my mind." She snapped. If an honest appeal wouldn't work then perhaps a show of strength would get him to take her seriously.

"You have strong barriers." While it was said casually, Hermione could see the glint of interest and mistrust in his coal black eyes.

Turning up her nose to the implied question, she took a dismissive sip of tea, "I am a Seer. I would be a poor one if I let anyone waltz into my mind and see what I have seen."

"What happens if you are right?" He asked, enunciating every syllable crisply.

"I would like to do a reading for you, another time of course. If the Fates are interested in you as they seem to be, you would benefit from finding out what they're trying to tell you." Setting down her cup she folded her hands together on the table, hoping that showing him she had no wand in hand would help to convince him she wasn't a threat.

"What is my moniker?" He asked, looking put upon and bored. Giving no indication that she saw the way his wand arm was shaking slightly she closed her eyes and placed a hand delicately at her temple. Feeling like Trelawney at her most dramatic, she began to hum slightly.

After a few seconds had passed, she fluttered her eyes open, "My gift of sight has shown me the answer to your question. You are the Half-Blood Prince." It was as if someone had placed a full body-bind on Snape. He went perfectly still. His hands no longer looking ready to grasp his wand. His facial expression that had once conveyed bored disdain was now carefully blank.

"You are mistaken." His voice was neutral, as if commenting on something as mundane as the weather. Lifting her chin slightly, she dared to give him a superior look.

"If you have not heard it before, perhaps it is in your future. Time has little meaning to the Fates." She was distracted from his silent gaze by her food being placed before her.

"There you are, enjoy." Tom ambled off, seemingly unaware of the tension that was radiating from the table. Starting in on her eggs, she avoided looking at the black-clad man as he placed money down on the table before sweeping away. Cursing her forwardness, Hermione went over the exchange. She had gotten it right. The Half-blood Prince was not something she would ever forget. He had asked her clearly expecting her to fail. While they had never formally agreed to terms, she had been hopeful she would spark his interest enough to get him to agree to a private reading. She would need a place to deliver her 'prophecy' where they wouldn't be overheard and she would have time to talk it over with him to plant the seeds of doubt in his current cause.

Allowing herself to be distracted by the food, she felt her resolve renew. He had not said she couldn't contact him. He had left the door open to future interactions and that was a small step in the right direction. Paying Tom for her meal, she started out to owl her letter to the Headmaster. Diagon Alley had filled up as more people were out shopping as the morning wore on. Passing by the shoppers, Hermione couldn't help but feel she was being watched. Careful not to draw attention to the fact she knew, she continued on making more stops in populated areas than she needed to. After a full hour of meaningless trips into the stores, she was certain of it.

Deciding it would be best to mail out her letter of interest now despite the threat than wait and potentially have Trelawney get the jump on her, she paid for a standard delivery owl and sent him off. Careful to keep her wand in hand but hidden in the sleeve, she went off the beaten track. Knowing her options were limited and unwilling to show where she was living, she resolved to draw out whoever was following her.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Hermione called out as she pivoted to catch a smear of black disappear behind a corner. Casting a quick _protego _she ducked behind some barrels that sat out behind a store. Calculating how long it would take to make a run for a more populous area she discarded the option. Slowly retreating towards a more defensible position, she fired off spells to mask her intentions.

Feeling her shield crackle as the energy of a spell dissipated along the barrier, she was unprepared to feel she cool tip of a wand in her throat. Before she had time to process what was happening, she was out cold.

* * *

Coming to left her to gnash her teeth in rage. She had been captured already, something that was decidedly not in the plans. Though, she had never thought her first day in the past would cause her to be a target. She was supposed to be laying low until she could reach Dumbledore and take the divination job. Cursing herself for getting in the fight in the first place she assessed her surroundings. It looked run-down with hardly anything in the room. There was no furniture and no tools she could use to get out of the ropes that encased her. Only a few books and a lamp in the opposite corner showed that the room was used at all. Worming her way over, she was halfway across the room when her assailant opened the door.

Freezing where she was, she took in the sight of dragonhide boots and black robes. Feeling like a fool, she narrowly resisted getting into a sitting position. While laying prone on the floor was hardly the dignified image she wanted to present it would be best not to irritate the man with the wand, she reasoned.

"This is hardly the private consultation I was proposing earlier." She spoke, hoping a blithe attitude would goad him into revealing why he kidnapped her.

"Legilimens." It was all the warning she had. Throwing up her mental defenses she clamped down on his invading presence. It was like trying to hold on to water as he flowed from her thoughts of meeting him in the Leaky Cauldron to their impromptu battle. When he began to near her memories of fighting other such pitched battles she ripped her eyes from his. Their labored breathing filled the room.

"Tell me how you knew." He sounded half crazed as he grabbed her by her bindings and hauled her up into a sitting position. Her head pounded as she moaned lowly. While she could protect her mind from most, Severus Snape was already better than most in the mind arts. She could only imagine how easily he would have broken through her defenses if he had the same skill he had in the second war. As it was the mental attack had left her with a pounding headache that made it difficult to think clearly.

"I told you, I'm a Seer." She answered, pleading with her eyes for him to believe her. It had never occurred to her that Severus Snape would kill her when she had thought about approaching him in the Leaky Cauldron. Now, it seemed like a distinct possibility.

"If you continue to lie to me I will use Veritaserum on you." Snape promised lowly. Feeling a tendril of rationality, Hermione was certain he would have already used it if he did have it.

"You don't think I'm lying. I was right. You're just afraid." The swift kick he delivered to her stomach had her wheezing and curling up into a tight ball. "I can't help what I See!" She howled. In her time, Severus Snape was a controlled and exact man. His fits of rage limited to the Mauraders. Now, it seemed the potions master was spinning out of control. She had seen it in his journals. His writing of turmoil and being both repulsed by what his brothers were doing but basking in their acceptance and inclusion of him. She had played with fire by goading him and now she had come out on the losing end of things.

"Let me prove it to you!" She implored, not daring to look up to see if it was working. The silence of the room suffocated her as she waited for another blow to rain down.

"Very well, but I will kill you if you are lying to me." Taking a shuddering breath, she tentatively sat back up, wincing in pain as she did so.

"You don't want to be a Death Eater anymore…" Before she could finish her sentence he was on top of her, hands at her throat. Conscious that in the state he was in if she did not do something soon he would do as he had promised and kill her. Rearing up enough to bite down on his arm she quickly bucked her body to dislodge him.

"_The half-blood prince in blood shall end… if the flower perishes so too shall he. Those of cloak and dagger will trample under foot all that the Prince cares for if unheard goes the warning. Unite with the tricksters lest he himself be tricked… A spy must he be… Two masters shall preside over him, but for his trials love shall be his." _Her voice scratchy from the attempted strangling, she delivered the prophecy and her only hope of escaping alive.

A profound silence settled on the room. Hermione held her breathe, waiting for the scales to tip one way or another.

"What does it mean?" His asked in a low growl.

"I don't know. The future isn't clear. We can try and make sense of it together." Turning her eyes to his hopefully, she was alarmed to see him tugging at his hair muttering obscenities. "I can help you. I can help you break free. You've known for some time that what you're doing isn't what you want. I can see it, it radiates off you. Remorse. Feeling. You aren't a bad man. You can protect what you love. You can be someone that she'll love. You used to. Please. Please let me help you." She babbled, trying to gage his reaction to her words.

"I forgive you. I forgive you. You didn't mean to hurt me. You got scared. It's okay." His haunted look before he fled the room stayed with her as she slumped onto the floor and let out a thankful breathe.

* * *

Well, they've met! :D Severus is no peach and a scared Severus that feels cornered is even less so. He's going to have to go through some intense self-loathing for what he's done as a Death Eater and the beating he gave Hermione before he can be anywhere near a decent person. However, he will be going through a personal transformation. It should be no surprise that it's gonna be awhile before they become romantically involved. Also, I plan on updating on Monday's.

I want to thank everyone who took the time to read, review, favorite, and follow the story!


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione couldn't have said with any accuracy how long she had been lying on the floor, tied up, and with nothing to do besides listen to hear if Snape was coming back. The books in the room had been old school books, most being various levels of the Standard Book of Spells. She wondered if they too would have original editions made by the Half-Blood Prince or if it was something he had reserved for his potions textbook. She had begun to relax, after the attack she had been hyper aware as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. Now, she felt sluggish and tired. It did not help that anytime she breathed too deeply her torso would flare with pain. A combination of rolling and worming had left her tucked in a corner, a position that would afford her more protection if he did attack again. While she did not innately distrust Snape, she had learned that this Snape was a fundamentally different man than the one she knew in school and the one she had grown to know through his journals. She could only hope that he had left to collect himself and not to report to Voldemort that he had captured a Seer.

The tiny whine the door emitted roused her from her dozing thoughts. Keeping her eyes closed, she listened for the sound of approaching footfalls. When she heard nothing, she cautiously peeked out from beneath her latches to see Severus Snape standing in the doorway. The man looked like an emotional void, posture relaxed and face neutrally set but something seemed off. His gaze was staring fixedly at her. Sensing that he was deciding something crucial, Hermione kept perfectly still. Afraid that the slightest movement on her part would tip the balance away from her.

Suddenly, he was striding towards her, decision apparently made. Closing her eyes, she waited. Feeling the ropes that had kept her immobile disappear she slowly sat up, careful not to jostle her side.

"How do you know?" Severus asked, voice conveying little interest but his body language spoke otherwise. He had come closer and was using his superior height to stare down his long nose at her.

"I'm afraid you will have to either accept that I am what I've told you since the beginning and proven time and time again or continue to doubt it. You have to decide that." Hermione explained slowly, wondering if his ire at the situation would drive him to violence again.

"How did you know it was a woman?" At her puzzled look, he continued, "the flower."

"Love will be yours and unless you're partial to a hydrangea I could safely assume it was a woman." At his low rumble of anger, she defiantly raised her eyes to meet his in a silent challenge. If he was going to ask silly questions, she would make sure he knew how ridiculous he was being. "Your fate isn't decided. It's in your hands. You can save her. Save yourself too. If she goes you'll go too. It's up to you, do you want her to live?" The tall man was pacing, casting scathing looks her way as she spoke.

"It's not that simple!" He snapped, halting mid-stride. "I want to save her, I would do anything to save her but I don't know how. I joined to protect her." His impassioned speech was wasted on Hermione. Forcing herself to stand, she kept herself from swaying on the spot by focusing all of her energy into the act of wagging her finger at the younger man.

"Now listen here! You can and you will or you will kill her just as surely as what you're involved with will! If you joined to protect her now you have to spy to protect her. I did not share my inner eye with you because I thought you were a weak man. You can do this." Her anger kept her from the insanity that she was committing speaking to Severus Snape like he was an errant school boy. The need to turn him kept her face from showing the agony she was in from speaking so much after her procedure and subsequent strangling.

"I don't have a choice, they'll find out!" He shouted, closing the distance between them to tower over her slight form. Undeterred, she stepped closer, bearing a feral smile at his attempts to intimidate her. She had been through a war and emerged victorious. She had fought her way up the Ministry ladder to the research position she had desired. While many had tried to get her to give up and turn away she had never let them win and she wouldn't now either. With renewed determination, she moved closer to the black clad form.

"Then you've killed her." The pain that flashed across his black eyes as she pronounced his love's fate convinced her to push her advantage. "If you love her you will do what must be done, you joined a group that will kill her for all that you tried to protect her. You don't want to be a Death Eater anymore. Do it for her. Make your mistakes have meaning. Do it for her or you will lose her." Her words seemed to strike him, as if recoiling away from his own personal Nostradamus.

He said nothing as he turned and left the room. The click of the lock and the fading sounds of his footsteps convinced the time traveler he had left. Slumping down to the floor, Hermione contemplated screaming. Her body felt like it had after the Department of Mysteries and one of the key people in the past was no closer to warming up to her than he had been when she had met him, she thought miserably. The fact that he had not hurt her again was quietly shuffled away for consideration later as she gave in to the need to sleep.

When she awoke it was to the sight of a small jar near the door. Inspecting the item showed there was no label, only smooth emerald glass. Tentatively opening up the jar she could smell the faint odor of peppermint. Examining the contents she saw it had the consistency of paste. Giving the mixture another discerning sniff, she was honestly befuddled. While Snape had not attacked her the last time she had seen him, the gesture of giving her Bruisewort Balm was above and beyond what she would have expected.

With no mirror in the room she could only imagine where the bruising was exactly and how bad it would be. Scooping some of the concoction up, she applied it liberally to her throat and after lifting her shirt did the same for her ribs. Wincing at the pressure she muttered a litany of insults about hot-tempered men.

"It's no wonder Cassandra didn't want to be a Seer, you get abducted by psychopaths and they don't even have the decency to believe what you're telling them!" She ranted as she tugged her shirt down which immediately became stuck to the balm.

"Even when you're locked away you're still too talkative." Whirling around only to find Snape standing in the doorway she was pleased he had the decency to wait until she had covered herself back up before speaking up.

"Yes, well I haven't exactly got a lot else to do at the moment." Crossing her arms over her chest she examined the man across from her. To put it lightly he looked like death warmed up. His pallor had never been anything but pale and he looked even more drained with dark purple bruising under his eyes from loss of sleep, she suspected. He looked like he would do well with a good meal, his robes hung off his lanky body. His sneer upon noticing her inspection did nothing to improve his physical appearance.

"I don't imagine you'll have anything to do for awhile. Though, I did receive a most interesting missive on your behalf." He intoned, strolling into the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. Thoughts racing, she resolved to ignore his goading. He would taunt her with a chance at escaping. If she had learned anything about Snape, he would have carefully orchestrated it so even if she was able to get out of the room, the house would be warded against allowing anyone out. That combined with his wand and she without hers left her at a distinct disadvantage. Resisting the urge to growl she instead took the bait.

"Taking my mail now as well? My, you must be bored." Pointedly walking away from the open door to come closer to him she was happy to see his calculating look follow her every movement.

"You're meeting Dumbledore." He stated, placing his hands behind his back.

"Well, I certainly hope to. Even Seers are in need of steady jobs. We can't all turn tricks in Knockturn alley." Giving him a winsome smile she was slightly put out to see he didn't seem effected by her barb.

"You will be meeting with Dumbledore and I will be going with you." Massaging her temples she wished she at least had a chair to sit down in before addressing his wishes.

"I'm going to assume he will be meeting me at my room." When he did not contradict her, she continued on, "Do you really think it's wise? He's going to think meeting with me is a trap if you're there when he walks in the door. Why not wait until the interview is over and I can introduce you. Explain to him why you're doing what you're doing."

"No. He will not know why I'll be doing it. Never — never tell! This must be between us! Swear it!" The tall man advanced on her, a look of crazed anguish twisting his features.

"I swear it! I will never tell anyone that you're doing it for her. No one. But Dumbledore will not accept that you've changed sides if I can not say something to him." She made placating gestures to the man who seemed on the verge of either crying or hurling her across the room in a fit of rage.

"I will speak to him. I will save Lily. You will help me, Seer." His anger seemed to drain from his body, leaving him resolute and immovable.

"I have already promised to help you. You don't have to threaten me. I approached you after all. I'm continuing to speak to you because I want to help you. But I will not help you as a prisoner. I will not help you under threat of violence. If you want my help, if you want to save Lily, you will treat me with respect. Is that clear?" At his begrudging nod in acknowledgement, she felt the fear recede. While it was far from the perfect arrangement as long as he believed he needed her she would be safe. His love of Lily was obsessional as much as devotion. He had fixated on her for so long and thought her beyond his reach that the mere chance that he could have her again had ignited desperation for her. Anything that could help him to get her was vital to him. As long as she could remain vital, she could remain alive she reasoned. That did not mean that she would trust him though. She trusted his love of Lily, not the man who stood before her.

"Good, now I am in desperate need of food and a shower." Hermione placed her hands on her hips to show she meant business. Snape seemed to be warring with himself as irritation flashed across his eyes.

"Very well, follow me." If she had thought the room she had been in was run-down, the house showed her what squalor really was. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls, the carpeting had numerous splotches in varying colors that she did her best not to step on, and the very air had a musty and unpleasant aroma.

"I'll need my wand back." Though he did not turn around, she could imagine the look he was giving her. "I won't repeat myself." After a flight of stairs and a quick right turn, the pair had entered the kitchen. Seating herself at the table that wobbled slightly, she watched as Snape efficiently moved about collecting left-overs and two glasses of water.

"I'm Maya Dunn, by the way." The silence stretched on. "You could at least tell me your name."

"I thought you knew everything." The cold detachment of his voice had her huffing in annoyance.

"Don't be stupid." Tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk she ignored the thunderous look he leveled at her, "Of course I don't know everything. That's not how the Fates work. They don't draw up a list of details on everyone; they tell me what they find relevant. Often, it takes a lot of time and thought to pull apart what they meant. It's not some mystical free for all, I'm not privy to all the details of your life and the second you stop treating me like a mind reader the better off we'll both be."

"Don't call me stupid." Every word was spoken crisply and further stressed by the sound of two glasses of water slapping down on the table. Choosing to ignore his outburst, Hermione sipped at her water. Savoring the soothing feeling it brought to her throat she massaged her aching jaw reflexively. Halting her movements when she saw his assessing eyes following her every movement she gulped down the remainder of the water.

"I didn't hurt your jaw." Fighting the urge to gasp, Hermione let her body relax, reclining into her chair and opening up her posture. Severus Snape was far too observant for his own good, she thought critically. Any sign of her lying and he would attack again like he did before. Her only way out was to convey complete honesty, or at least enough of a half-truth to sound truthful.

"You'd be surprised at how committed old, crotchety men are when they want to see their prophecies fulfilled." Rubbing at her jaw she contemplated how this world's Dumbledore would react to having a seer who was wise to all of his ploys.

"It seems your… charming personality has been noticed by others." His faintly amused look at her plight earned him an indignant sniff and a dismissive toss of her head.

"Well my charming personality, as you so quaintly put it, is now demanding that we go collect my things." Folding her arms over her chest she leveled a no-nonsense stare at the sullen man sitting across from her. "Also, we will be going to get real food, left-overs simply won't be cutting it. I am ravenous."

"I should have known you would be a harpy in addition to being a pain in my ass." Sensing no real anger behind his glare, Hermione waved a dismissive hand in his direction. Before she had gone back she had expected Snape to be much like his older self only less jaded. Now, she had realized how wrong she was. He was a completely different man with both more rage and less control on his emotions overall. While she would have to be more cautious of provoking true rage she could also harry him, like a lioness after gazelle. By keeping him constantly on his guard she could wear him down until he would start to slip up and let her in. She had his compliance with her plan but he was jaded and would fight the Order as much as he helped them, just as he did in the past railing against all the members who condemned him and tried to help him in equal measure. Her plan was simple but impactful, she hoped. She would use what she knew of him through his journals to befriend him. If she could break down some of his walls she was confident Lily would do the rest.

"I'll need my things as well." His mulish expression only served to make her chuckle. "We can't get into my room without my wand, all the wards are keyed to it. Also, I'll be needing my letter from Dumbledore back. I would like to respond to him right away." Rising, she went and refilled her cup with water, waiting him out.

"If you try to run…" The threat didn't need to be stated aloud. Nodding curtly Hermione watched as the younger man stepped out of the room. Breathing out a sigh of relief she congratulated herself on a job well done. If he trusted her enough to let her have her wand back then he had believed her. Now, her plan truly was in motion.

* * *

Collecting the harridan's belongings was grating. Severus Snape was no house elf and yet she had dismissed him as if she was the one in charge. Clenching his teeth tightly, he contemplated how quickly his life had changed and all because of the damned woman camped out in his kitchen. He had been serving a cause that respected him. Sure, they did things that he didn't care for but they at least wanted him. Valued his potions and his skills. And now, now Lily was in danger. It had been in the back of his mind ever since he had heard of the cause. She was a mudblood. But, he had always believed that he could protect her. If he could be useful enough surely his master would spare her. But, it seemed Fate was the vile bitch he had always known her to be. The most precious thing in his universe was in danger and he would do anything to protect her. Even turning traitor. Even risking his life. But then, Lily was his life. He risked nothing except for her.

It would seem the harpy would have to be tolerated until then. Her prophecies would be useful, as well as her contacts with Dumbledore. At first he had thought the woman a spy herself. An outside agent the Order had contacted. But, her prophecies had been far too real and her desperation had hung thick in the air when he had abducted her. If she was a spy she was a poor one. The letter from Dumbledore about meeting for a potential job had solidified her use to him. If anyone could protect Lily it would be Dumbledore. Since the wretch already had an appointed time to meet with him in the Hog's Head it would be stupid not to use it. He would talk to Dumbledore, plead his case, and turn his back on the Dark Lord. The bossy woman was his best chance of accomplishing what he needed to and for that she would be tolerated. Barely.

She was mouthy, self-assured, passable in combat, and one of the most annoying people he had come in contact with. She would have to be watched, closely. While she denied being a harlot Seers spent their time selling their wares for a prophet. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't sell information on him if she got the chance. Her agreement to stay with him was only the first step. She was too useful to kill and yet too useful to lose. She would have to be watched. Would have to bend to his purposes. Lily would be protected at all costs and a pet Seer would go a long way to secure that.

Returning to the kitchen with her wand and bag in tow, he dumped them unceremoniously in front of her, pleased when she shot him a dirty look. "We will go now." Best not to give her much to work with. The less she knew about him the better. It wouldn't do to give her more leverage over him. Seizing a hold of her arm, he apparated behind the Hog's Head, giving the witch a slight jerk when she swayed on her feet from the effects of side-along. Clinically noting that in her weakened state she would likely throw up if they apparated again without getting her food he resigned himself to lowering himself to granting yet another of her wishes.

Releasing her arm, he instead snaked his hand to the small of her back. From all appearances they would seem to be intimate when really it allowed him to keep her more firmly in his control. She said nothing though the stubborn lifting of her chin showed what she thought of the gesture. Seeing Aberforth take an active interest in them as they walked in, Severus more forcefully guided his captive towards the staircase. If Aberforth was interested in them it was likely Dumbledore would be informed of their impromptu public performance.

When they were safely out of his sight Severus muttered in her ear, "Why was he so interested?" Her speculative gaze up at him prompted a flair of annoyance.

"He's been watching me since I first got here. I thought he was just curious about having a foreign witch staying here." Seeing the small shrug of her shoulders he waited as she withdrew her wand and performed the necessary movements to lower her wards. Placing the key in the lock he wasn't prepared for a mass of orange fur to dart from the bed straight towards them.

"Crookshanks!" The woman squealed, picking up the ugliest cat Severus had ever seen.

"What is that?" He demanded, convinced his captive must have been blind as she peppered the cat with kisses and nearly smothered it with a long hug. The cat didn't seem to enjoy the treatment for long and had soon squirmed out of her embrace and jumped to the floor.

"It's my cat, Crookshanks." Mystified at the besotted look she bestowed on the beast that had taken up its perch on her bed and was staring him down with lamp like eyes he was certain she really was blind.

"Indeed." Turning his attention away from the creature, he took stock of the room. Everything was in careful order and spotlessly clean. Something he knew from experience the other rooms in the Hog's Head would not be able to claim. It seemed she was a neat freak and exceptionally precise. Strolling across the room he noted a lack of personal items. There were no picture frames or items that could give any insight. It seemed purposefully impersonal. Filing away the information for later, he turned and watched as the woman chased her cat about the room.

"What are you doing?" When she had said she needed to get her things he had thought toiletries and clothing, she couldn't be thinking of taking the monster with her, could she?

"I have to get him in his carrier and he always gets a bit feisty." A bit feisty seemed to entail hissing and worming his way under the bed to take swipes at his master's hand.

"He is not going to be in my home." This was ridiculous. First, she had made him into her personal house elf and now she expected him to allow a cat in his home. She was in for a rude awakening if he had his say. "That thing is a beast and will destroy my home. You said you needed your things. I have been more than reasonable." Folding his arms across his chest he stood rigid as Maya Dunn cast her dark brown eyes up at him, seeming to struggle with words.

It was at that precise moment that the cat darted out of his hiding place and clawed his way up Snape like a lumberjack would a redwood. Howling from rage and pain, Snape tried to dislodge Crookshanks who instead dug his claws in deeper. The woman was at his side in a flash, placing the mouth of the cat carrier under the feline and using her other hand had shoved the cat inside. Shaking with rage he tried to collect himself as the luminous eyes of the cat shone from the dark of his carrier, seeming to mock him.

"Well, he's in his cage now so he's coming. He likes you; he doesn't come out for just anyone." Sputtering, Severus looked down his long nose to the witch who seemed to flutter her eyelashes coquettishly. Howling his frustration, Severus settled with kicking a nearby chair.

"We're leaving!" Grabbing the woman roughly by the arm, he hauled her along after him down the stairs. Not caring that he looked like a lunatic, he ignored her muttered curses as she hastily closed the door to her room and armed her charms all while stumbling along behind him with the cat carrier squashed between her arm and her side with her wand clutched in her other hand. Not caring that Aberforth looked alarmed as Maya struggled to keep up with his long strides he was out of the Hog's Head in record time. Turning on the spot, he apparated into his home accompanied by the sound of the woman retching.

* * *

I'm so sorry this is so late! I just started a new job and haven't had as much time. However, the next chapter will be out come Monday, I promise! The action in the story is starting to pick up and we get to see Severus' side of things. :) A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, follow, and favorite!


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